


Sorrow's Own Joys

by enigmaticblue



Series: Blood of the Victims [2]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Psychological Torture, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-03 01:09:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 41,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1725662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to Hoping's Very Fears, where they finally deal with that warlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Running Away

Spike tipped the bottle back again, only to find it empty. With a grunt and a sigh, he tossed it across the room, disappointed when it merely bounced off the wall and rolled across the floor. If he had still been in the crypt, it would have broken with a satisfying tinkle of glass.

 

But he wasn’t in his crypt. He wasn’t in his crypt because he’d tried to get himself killed by a really nasty warlock, and what did he get for his troubles?

 

Nothing. A big fat zero.

 

There was that one evening with Buffy where he thought they were going somewhere, somewhere other than friendship. She had seemed engaged, ready to start moving along, and then nothing at all.

 

Spike had walked her home, like any normal guy might, he’d given her a kiss at the front door, and then Buffy had begun the process of ignoring him. He’d let a few days go by, and then he’d gone over to her house to see her. Buffy had smiled, said she was busy, maybe in a few days. Spike had given her the requisite time, all the while trying to patrol with her. Even on patrol she managed to avoid him, however, and after another few days of avoidance, Spike had gotten a little more aggressive.

 

No one had said anything to him, though he’d received some pitying looks from her friends, but Buffy made sure she was unavailable any time he even got close. Spike had resorted to sneaking into the Summers’ residence to ask Dawn what was going on, but all the littler Summers had to say was that Buffy wasn’t really talking to anyone. He shouldn’t be feeling left out.

 

Three weeks of that kind of treatment had left him frustrated, with the beginnings of furious. Spike had managed to finally confront her while she was on patrol. The details of which would be forever burned on his memory.

 

_“Buffy!” Spike ran to catch up with the Slayer as she walked briskly through Pleasant Rest cemetery._

_The Slayer turned to look back at him. “Spike. What are you doing here?”_

_“Looking for you,” he replied. “Buffy, I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks now. What’s up with you?”_

_Buffy waved her hands, as though giving him the brush off. “Spike, look. I don’t know what you thought, but I’m really not into this right now.”_

_“Not into what?” he demanded. “We were doing just fine, luv. I don’t want to push. I’m not asking for much. Friendship, patrol partners, whatever you want. Told you that. It’s up to you. But I need to know what you want from me.”_

_“Absolutely nothing,” Buffy replied. “Look, Spike, I asked for an evening out as normal girl, and you more than came through. It was great, really, but it’s over. It was one night, and now it’s time to return to my regularly scheduled life, which doesn’t actually include vampires. Other than the slaying of.”_

_Spike stepped back, stunned. “Buffy, we were friends.”_

_She had shrugged, as though supremely unconcerned. “You just needed help getting over the hump. I think you’re fine on your own. I know I am.”_

Spike had let her go after that. If it weren’t for the chip, he probably would have tried to tear her throat out right there. It would have been a fair response to her ripping his heart out, as far as he was concerned. He’d been at the bottom of a bottle for the last four days, trying to figure out what went wrong. Everything had been going so well; Buffy had been talking to him, they’d had a few laughs together, he knew she’d enjoyed their night out. So what had happened?

 

Rubbing a weary hand over his face, he levered himself out of his chair and stumbled over to the fridge, groaning when he realized that he didn’t have any blood. Spike hadn’t eaten for at least two days, and he was beginning to feel the effects. He’d lost track of things in the middle of trying to get drunk. It usually took copious amounts of alcohol, and he’d surpassed himself.

 

“Looking for this?” Spike turned to see Dawn standing the doorway to the kitchen, holding a brown paper sack. “I came by a while ago, but you were passed out. I figured you might want to eat.”

 

“What are you doing here?” Spike demanded shortly. “It’s the middle of the day. Shouldn’t you be in school?”

 

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Hello? Summer? Have you heard of it? School was out a week ago. I was waiting for you to come back over, but when you didn’t show, I thought I’d come visit.”

 

When Spike continued to stare at her dumbly, Dawn repeated the eye roll and pulled the plastic tub of blood out of the sack. Brushing past him, she stuck it in the microwave, set the timer, pulled it out when the buzzer went off, and handed it to him. “I think the booze turned your brains to mush,” Dawn said wisely. “Drink.”

 

Spike shook himself out of his daze and obediently drank his dinner. He finished off the tub, he was that hungry, and then looked back over at Dawn. “What are you doing here, Nibblet?” he asked. The alcohol was beginning to wear off, and his head was pounding, but he kept his tone gentle. Now that he was thinking again, he could see in the girl’s eyes that all was not right with her world.

 

Dawn shrugged in reply. “I just wanted to see you, y’know?” She wandered out to the living room. Spike had cleaned the place up, and the small living room had been furnished with a nice TV set, couch and chair. The floors were still dusty, but there were blankets arranged over the windows, and he’d almost managed to make them look like heavy drapes. “It could use some paint.”

 

“You want to help?” he asked. Sighing, he reached into the fridge for one of those fruit drinks he knew she liked so much. “Here.” He tossed her the bottle, impressed in spite of himself when she snatched it out of the air easily.

 

“Not so much,” Dawn replied, then adding a small, “Thanks.” She dropped onto the couch, and was unsurprised when he came over and plopped down beside her. “What happened?”

 

“Your sis decided she didn’t want me around anymore,” Spike replied honestly. He didn’t question why he might unburden himself to a teenager. He and Dawn had an understanding of sorts.

 

Dawn pouted. “So you couldn’t come visit me?”

 

Spike shrugged uncomfortably, realizing that he’d forgotten about the little sis while obsessing about the older one. Dawn, at least, wanted him around, needed him around, and wasn’t shy about saying so. “Sorry.”

 

“It’s okay.”

 

They sat in silence for a while, until Spike put a tentative arm around her shoulders and asked the question. “So what’s bothering you, Bit?”

 

Dawn sighed and relaxed against him. Spike was the best, really. He never treated her like a freak, and he was the best listener in the world. Plus, he was really, really good about taking her side and not telling her she was being stupid. “Everybody’s busy.”

 

Spike let the silence go, waiting for Dawn to fill him on the details. She finally continued. “Willow and Tara are both working this summer, and Giles and Anya are at the Magic Box all the time. Xander’s working really long hours, because summer’s when that happens for construction, and Buffy’s got a new job. Nobody’s ever around.” Dawn’s lip trembled. “I miss Mom.”

 

Spike pulled her to him, letting Dawn bury her face in his chest. “Oh, luv,” he murmured. “I miss her too. Let it out, Sweet Bit.”

 

She cried then. It was the first time she’d allowed herself to let go since the funeral. Everybody seemed to be trying to move on with their lives, but the summer had been her and her mom’s time. Joyce had spent as much time as possible with her younger daughter. They had rented movies, and she had let Dawn help in the gallery, looking at all the new pieces that were shipped in. They had had a book club, and had read together.

 

Dawn knew intellectually that this was really the first summer she’d been around, but somehow that only made it worse. She thought about all the memories of all the summers before this one, including the one where Buffy was in L.A. Every single one of those summers had been a lie, and she would never have a real one.

 

She woke in the morning to an empty house, knowing that Buffy wouldn’t be around most of the day. She ate her meals by herself and watched as her sister ignored her existence, too caught up in her own life and misery to know that Dawn was dying by inches. Dawn hated it, but who was to say that Buffy wasn’t in the same boat, and was trying to keep up a strong front? Of course, when your sister would hardly look at you, it was impossible to say what she was up to.

 

The story, as well as the tears, came tumbling out onto Spike’s t-shirt-clad chest and sympathetic ears. He didn’t say anything for a long time, letting Dawn spill out all her troubles. “It’s just—it’s worse than it was right after the funeral, you know?” she said. “I mean, at least then I kind of understood, and it got better for a little while. Now, though, Buffy just says she has to work or go over bills. And if she’s not working she’s at the Bronze with the gang, and she never even talks to me. We weren’t ever best friends, but—”

 

Spike held her tightly and sighed. “Your sister’s going through a rough time right now, Bit. I’m sure she’s just trying to get everything settled. Before, she had Glory and things to take her mind off it, but it’s harder for her now.”

 

Dawn shook her head stubbornly. “I don’t care, Spike.” She pulled away from his chest and stared at him. “I hate her. I hate her for not even caring where I am all day or what I’m doing. She loves her friends and slaying more than me.”

 

Spike didn’t bother trying to correct her, even though he knew it wasn’t true. He always hated it when people told him he wasn’t really feeling what he said he was feeling, and he wasn’t about to do the same to Dawn. Instead, he decided to see to the problem he could fix. “I’m around, luv,” he pointed out.

 

“Huh?” Dawn stared at him.

 

Spike was beginning to get more enthusiastic about the idea the more he thought about it. Even if Buffy didn’t want him around, he could still spend time with Dawn, and he truly enjoyed the girl’s company. It was like having a little sister, only better. He didn’t feel quite so guilty about corrupting Dawn. “If it’s gonna be you and me this summer, we’ll make the best of it, Bit. Can’t do much about going out in the daylight, but in the house or after dark, I’m all yours.”

 

Dawn stared at him with great, shining eyes. “Really? You mean that?”

 

“Yeah, I mean that. Not putting myself at your complete beck and call, mind you, but we’ll stick together, right? So what do you want to do?” When she didn’t respond right away, he rephrased the question. “Not that I can take her place, but what do you miss most about your mum being gone?”

 

Dawn thought for a moment, and then replied, “The book club. We would read the same books and then talk about them. Buffy doesn’t read much, and not the same things, you know?”

 

Spike frowned thoughtfully. “How’s this then? You pick a book, and we’ll both read it and talk about it. And then I get to pick the book. We’ll switch off like that.”

 

Her face brightened. “Okay, that would be cool. As long as you don’t pick something that’s going to send Buffy through the roof if she sees it.”

 

“Give me a little credit, luv,” Spike admonished. “Not like I want to give your sister another excuse to stake me. What else?”

 

Dawn considered it for a moment, and then hesitantly said, “Well, I know we couldn’t go during the day, but maybe we could go to the beach? You know, after dark? It would be cool.”

 

Spike nodded slowly. “We’ll have to get the Slayer’s permission on that one. Taking you anywhere in my car might not fly with her. But we’ll try it, yeah?”

 

“Do you ever think it might be nice to just leave?” Dawn asked wistfully. “Just pack it all up and go and not even worry about ever coming back?”

 

“You thinking of leaving?” Spike asked, sounding as casual as possible.

 

Dawn shrugged. “Not seriously. I just wish we could leave some days, you know?”

 

“I know, Bit,” Spike said, echoing her sigh. The idea had appeal—to just go, not look back, do his best to forget about Buffy and Sunnydale and its Hellmouth. Leaving and taking Dawn with him even held its own allure. They could be road bums together, even though in his rational mind Spike knew that it was out of the question. There was no way he could ever take Dawn with him. Just like there was no way he’d ever be able to forget about the Slayer.

 

He glanced at the curtain, and both the level of light and his demon told him that it was past sundown. “Come on, Nibblet. It’s time you were home.” At her groan, he decided to sweeten the statement with a little bribe. “We’ll get ice cream on the way back, yeah?”

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy lay awake in her bed, with only herself to blame for her insomnia. Dawn’s glare when she’d arrived home that evening had not made Buffy’s day go any better. Long hours as a waitress were just not fun, but it paid some of the bills at least. Come September she’d have to make a decision about whether or not she could swing her classes, but that was months away and too much to think about just yet.

 

She was tired, bone-tired. In fact, Buffy was fairly certain that she’d never been this tired before in her entire life. No matter how much sleep she got, it didn’t seem to help. Going to bed early, sleeping in late, napping in the middle of the day: none of it made a difference. Exhaustion had seemed to settle into her very soul once Glory had been taken care of and finals were over.

 

It wasn’t Glory, or finals, or even her mom’s death that haunted her dreams at night, however. Every time she closed her eyes she could see Spike’s face as she told him she was better off on her own. Buffy had known she could be cruel, of course, but she’d never realized how calculating she could be, how easily she could cut out a man’s heart.

 

The worst part of it was that he made her happy. She had been more contented with Spike than she had been in a long time. Shutting him out of her life meant shutting out the best chance for happiness that she had right now. Every day that went by made her miss him more. And she knew, that if she had let him go patrolling with her, if she’d taken him up on any of his many offers of company, that he would have gladly stayed with her through any number of sleepless nights. He would have taken care of Dawn, without any complaint.

 

Hell, she already knew that Spike would willingly go to the sun and back for her, knowing it meant his death. This was, after all, Spike.

 

Buffy couldn’t blame him for his confusion. Their date had gone well. For a few hours, she’d been able to forget that she was the Slayer, that she was raising her sister by herself, that her mom was dead. For a few hours, the world had consisted of Spike and Buffy and no one else. And she’d been happy. Unbelievably happy.

 

Afterwards, at home again, she got to thinking. Everyone left. Her Dad had left, Angel had left, Parker (asshole that he was) had left, Riley had left. Now her mom was gone, through no desire of her own, and Buffy was tired of it all. She was tired of watching people she loved die, and tired of seeing their backs when they couldn’t take her and her life anymore.

 

Even Spike had nearly been killed for her twice, and Buffy was suddenly quite sure that one day she’d wake up and he’d be gone too. Maybe he’d leave like Angel had, for her own good. Or he’d leave like Riley had, because he didn’t think she loved him enough. Or maybe, knowing Spike, he’d leave like her mom: because he had no other choice.

 

Buffy had decided to nip the whole thing in the bud. Knowing that it was too late for him, that Spike already loved her and there was nothing she could do about it, she had decided to save her own heart for once. If she cut their relationship off quickly and cleanly it wouldn’t hurt that much. She might manage to survive it. She depended on him too much, she already cared about him too much. By letting it go on longer, she was dooming herself to intense heartbreak when he finally did leave.

 

Over would be better. Alone would be better. Less hurt that way.

 

What Buffy had never counted on was that losing Spike this way could make her this miserable. She missed him horribly. All she wanted to do was to go hunt him down and tell him she’d been a bitch, and wouldn’t he stick around for a while. The longer, the better, as far as she was concerned.

 

It was her pride that wouldn’t let her go to him, and perhaps it was his pride that wouldn’t let him make another attempt. Not that she could actually blame him. Dawn had made it a point to tell her how upset he was, and how stupid she was being. Buffy couldn’t blame her, but the raw anger, bordering on hate in her little sister’s eyes, made her wonder if it was worth it. Was shutting everybody out really worth it in the end?

 

A sob stuck in her throat, and Buffy turned over to bury her face in the pillow. She was so careful not to break down in front of anyone. She turned the water on and the radio up to cover the sound of her tears. She buried her face in sheets and blankets and down pillows to muffle her sobs. She was the Slayer, the strong one. Spike knew—if he were here, he would know. Buffy didn’t think she’d mind so much if he did.

 

“I promised myself I’d stay away.” The voice startled her out of her misery. For a moment, she thought perhaps she was dreaming, because he couldn’t be there, now, with her. Buffy had chased him away, and she was very, very good at that.

 

“I just walked the Bit home, and I thought I’d loiter a bit for a smoke, and I heard you up here.” Buffy didn’t dare roll over, fearing that if she did, he would disappear. “I’ll go, Buffy. I’ll stay away from you, but I won’t stay away from the Bit. Made her a promise, and I mean to keep it, but I’ll keep out of your way.”

 

“No.” It was no more than a whisper, but his supernatural hearing easily picked it up.

 

Spike took a step closer to the bed. He wanted nothing more than to gather her up in his arms and comfort her. He wanted to promise her that everything would be okay, but he couldn’t find the words. “No, what, pet?” he asked, his tone gentler than he’d intended. “No, I can’t spend time with your sis, or no, don’t keep out of your way.” At the long pause that followed, he said softly, “I gotta know, Slayer.”

 

Buffy said nothing, didn’t move, her head buried childishly in her pillow. Spike was torn between diving out the window and leaving for good, and following his first inclination, which was to offer comfort. “Bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath, and was sitting on the side of her bed in two purposeful strides.

 

Ignoring any protests, though there really weren’t any, Spike rolled her over and pulled her into his arms. After a moment’s stiffness, Buffy collapsed bonelessly in his embrace. Spike could feel her shaking, and feel the tears soaking the front of his t-shirt for the second time that day. Buffy wasn’t making any noise, though. It was actually the lack of sound that frightened him more than anything else.

 

Spike ran a long-fingered hand down her hair, making soothing sounds that had no meaning. “Shh, luv. I’m right here.”

 

“But you’ll leave.” The words were choked, but understandable.

 

Spike frowned. “Hadn’t planned on it.”

 

“Everybody leaves.”

 

The smallest glimmer of understanding began to kindle in Spike’s brain. “I don’t.”

 

“But everybody does,” Buffy protested. “Mom left.”

 

“Oh, Buffy,” Spike whispered into her hair. “I know, luv, I know. But I’m not going anywhere. Look at me.” He waited until she met his eyes. “How many times have you chased me out of town?”

 

Buffy rolled her eyes, which were still suspiciously misty. “A lot.”

 

“And how many times have I come back?”

 

“Every time.” Buffy voiced a protest. “But Mom didn’t mean to leave, and she did anyway. She died, Spike, and I know you wouldn’t mean to, but you’ve almost been killed twice.”

 

“Before you cared,” Spike pointed out. At her glare, he allowed, “It could happen, Buffy-luv.” He sighed unnecessarily. “You ever think what it might do to me to lose you? How many people have walked out on me before?” He let her consider that for a minute, and then continued, “We take risks every day. You take risks every time you go out and slay, risks that are hard for me to watch you take. And maybe you’re right. Something will happen to me, but you can’t shut yourself off from the world.”

 

She leaned her head on his shoulder. “But maybe it’s better to just not care. It’s safer.”

 

“Safe isn’t living, Slayer,” Spike reminded her. “Safe means you shut yourself in a box and hope it doesn’t blow up on you.” He hesitated. “That why you pushed me away?”

 

She shrugged slightly. “I just got to thinking about it, and—and you make me happy. And I thought that if you left, I wouldn’t be happy anymore.”

 

Spike felt whatever reservations he had about being with her fade away at her words. He kissed her forehead gently, then her eyelids, tasting the residue of her tears. He pressed a kiss to her lips, feeling greatly daring. “You’re my chance at happiness too, Buffy. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

 

He paused, wondering how much he really wanted to tell her. They hadn’t had much of a chance to talk about what he’d experienced up on that wall. She knew the ramifications of the spell, of course, but not about its effect on him. “Slayer—Buffy, you know what that curse does to a person. The Watcher explained, yeah?”

 

Buffy nodded. “Him and Anya, but I don’t see—”

 

“It’s more than just the suffering, pet. It’s about making you relive your life as if nothing good ever happened to you.” Spike fiddled with the ends of Buffy’s hair where it lay over his hand. “Funny thing was, when you pulled me down, I didn’t see much of a difference.”

 

“Oh.” Buffy was quiet, thinking how she couldn’t have helped that impression much over the last weeks. She didn’t want to feel guiltier, but she was. “I’m sorry, Spike.”

 

“It’s okay, luv. I understand.”

 

“No, it’s not okay. Dawn’s furious with me, and my friends probably aren’t real happy with me right now either.” Buffy felt another wave of loneliness wash over her again, but Spike’s tightened embrace kept her from feeling as though she were drowning.

 

He pressed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “We all grieve in our own ways.”

 

“How’d you get to be so smart?” she asked.

 

“Long years of practice, and lots of screw-ups.” He smiled when she gave him a weak chuckle, and then started to pull away. “I should let you sleep.”  


“Stay, please,” Buffy replied, hanging onto his hand. “Spike, I don’t know how much I can give you right now. I’m so tired, I feel like I can hardly breathe, but—”

 

Spike rose and went to the window, shutting the blinds. He turned back to face her, and Buffy could hear the seriousness of his tone, although she couldn’t see him in the darkness. “I won’t ask you for anything except that you don’t try and get rid of me again. Maybe try leaning on me a bit. I’m my own man. Don’t need you to take care of me, yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed, though she knew that it wasn’t quite true. But she needed to believe him. She needed to believe that there was one person she didn’t have to take care of, who would take care of her. Riley had needed that too, she supposed, but he hadn’t been strong enough to stay, to wait her out. Spike had more than proven himself.

 

Spike didn’t leave.

 

Buffy felt the bed sink down as he lowered himself onto the mattress. There were the sounds of his duster, and then each of his boots in turn, hitting the floor. She felt him scooting up close to where she lay in the bed, his arms encircling her. For the first time in weeks, Buffy allowed herself to believe that it might be okay, even if she knew it was a lie.

 

Because things would never really be okay again.


	2. Dealing

Spike woke the following morning in unfamiliar surroundings to a delicious sense of warmth. His eyes blinked open slowly, and it was with some wonder that he realized he had an armful of Buffy. He pushed himself up slowly, quietly disentangling his limbs from hers.

 

Buffy stirred slightly and moaned as he pulled away, and Spike froze, waiting for her to settle back down into sleep, which she soon did. Noiseless as a cat, he padded barefoot across the carpet, slipping out of the room as silently as he had entered the night before.

 

“Spike?” Dawn’s incredulous voice met him as he stood in the hallway, running a hand through sleep-mussed hair. “What are you doing here?”

 

She stood in her pajamas, obviously thrown off by his presence. “I, uh—” Spike sighed. “Hung around last night and heard your sister. Decided to try and talk to her again.”

 

“Buffy asked you to stay?” Dawn asked, a smile lighting up her face. “Really?”

 

“Yeah, well, she’s been going through a rough time, same as you.” Spike threw a cautious glance towards Buffy’s closed door, and then jerked his head towards the stairs.

 

Dawn, taking his hint, asked quietly, “So are you two together now?”

 

Spike shook his head. He wasn’t sure that anything had been decided, other than Buffy was feeling the need to protect herself through isolation. Spike had the distinct feeling that she would probably try it again. Next time, however, he thought he might try more aggressive techniques. Like tying her up and spiriting her away; always a popular solution. Just knowing that he made her happy gave him hope. It was the crumb that he’d needed to continue sticking around for her.

 

“Dunno.” Spike shrugged, and to Dawn’s amazement, began to get the coffee ready. “Doesn’t matter, though. We still have our bargain, yeah? And I’ll be making a regular nuisance of myself from now on.” He grinned at her, his blue eyes full of mischief. “Your sis’ll have to stake me to get rid of me from here on out.”

 

Dawn couldn’t help but smile back, and the expression felt odd on her face, like it didn’t quite belong there anymore. Seeing some of that in the girl’s eyes, Spike reached across the kitchen island to chuck her under the chin, a silent reminder to keep it up. “I’m glad you’re here, Spike.”

 

Spike’s expression gentled and became a little more somber. “Anytime, Sweet Bit.”

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy woke to the scent of coffee right under her nose. She blinked the sleep out of her eyes, slowly realizing that she’d just slept better than she had in the last three weeks. When she finally managed to focus, she found Spike sitting relaxed on the edge of her bed with a steaming mug in his hand. “Morning.”

 

“G’morning,” she replied sleepily, pushing herself up and taking the mug from him. She took a sip, and sighed in contentment. “I’m an idiot.”

 

“Alright,” Spike agreed amiably, his expression growing even more smug at Buffy’s glare. “What?”

 

“You weren’t supposed to agree with me,” Buffy protested. “You were supposed to tell me that I’m not an idiot.”

 

Spike shrugged, his eyes dancing. “Thought I wasn’t supposed to argue with you. You’re always right.”

 

Buffy opened her mouth to argue that no, she wasn’t always right, until she realized that it wasn’t what she wanted to say. He had neatly twisted her words and actions around to put her in between a rock and a hard place, and she had to smile. If she argued with him, she would never again be able to claim that she was never wrong. On the other hand, she wasn’t sure she wanted him to agree with her all the time either.

 

Seeing her smile, Spike took pity on her. “And why are you calling yourself an idiot, luv?”

 

“I spent the last three weeks being miserable, when I could have been waking up to room service,” Buffy finally replied.

 

Spike grinned. “Figured that out now, have you?”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Look, Spike, I already admitted that I was—” Buffy cleared her throat. “—mistaken, but—”

 

He silenced her with a kiss. “Buffy. Shut up.”

 

Surprisingly enough, she actually complied.

 

~~~~~

 

The warlock frowned with some alarm. He had made specific plans to ensure that that meddling vampire would be miserable for the rest of his unlife. He’d half-hoped the little bastard would dry up on that wall, or, if at all possible, that he’d kill himself as soon as someone pulled him down. Even better, that he’d go insane.

 

But no. The Slayer and her friends had to rescue him, and even befriend him. Lyndon should have known that he couldn’t trust this particular Slayer to do her job properly. He had, of course, heard of her history with the traitorous Angel. It was the curse on Angelus that had given him the idea for the carvings on Spike’s chest. The idea had been to create perpetual angst; what he hadn’t counted on was the vampire’s naturally sunny nature.

 

The creature was terribly optimistic, and while there had been satisfactory pain and anguish for a while, it was never enough. And now—

 

Now he was happy. He was actually happy. Even with the dreams, the memories, all it took was for that _girl_ to smile at him, and his unlife was good. Or, at least it was good enough so that he could ignore the torment that the soul was supposed to be.

 

Lyndon sighed. He should have just killed Spike when he’d had the chance. He’d left the vampire on the wall with the understanding that he would be dust as soon as someone removed him. He’d wanted to be creative, however, and now he would have to remedy the situation.

 

It didn’t matter. If the Slayer was what made him happy, he would just have to get rid of the Slayer. Killing her, ending her infatuation with the vampire, either one would work. And when it was all done, when he’d caused Spike as much pain and torment as he possibly could, Lyndon would rip his heart right out of his chest and watch him crumble.

 

He smiled. He was going to have so much fun in Sunnydale.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy came downstairs, adjusting her ponytail. It was just easier to wear her hair back while waiting tables, rather than have it in her face all day. Both Dawn and Spike looked up at her as she came into the living room. “Okay, I have to get to work. I’ll be home by six. Spike, you can stay here today if you don’t want to chance the daylight. But if you don’t stay, I really wouldn’t mind if you came on patrol with me. I could use the back-up.”

 

“Think I’ll just stay here with the Bit,” Spike replied easily, reaching over and tugging on Dawn’s hair.

 

Buffy looked both doubtful and touched at the same time. She hadn’t quite realized that Spike’s affection for her sister went so far as to have him spending the day with her. “Well, okay. Dawn, there should be food in the fridge. I left some money on the counter. If I’m not home by six, go ahead and order pizza for us.” She glared at her sister. “And no anchovies this time.”

 

“Anchovies are the best!” Dawn protested. At Buffy’s stern look, she muttered, “Fine, no anchovies.”

 

Buffy nodded. “Great. Okay, I’m off.”

 

“So what are we going to do today?” Dawn asked rather listlessly. Most of her friends were on vacation with their families, so her options were pretty much limited to Spike.

 

Spike shrugged. “What we do every day, Pinky.”

 

Dawn grinned at his reference. “Try and take over the world,” she finished the quote. “You watch cartoons.”

 

“When there’s nothing else on,” Spike said, trying to salvage his manly reputation. “Besides, I like Brain. Poor bugger’s plans never stand a chance.” He paused. “If I knew I was gonna be stuck here today, I’d have brought the Playstation.”

 

“You have a Playstation?” Dawn asked. “You stole it?”

 

“No!” Spike glared at her. “I’d never—” He stopped, and then reconsidered. “Well, I would, actually, but I bought it off a kid who was getting a new something or other. He needed a bit of cash, and I wanted his gear. Worked out well enough.”

 

Dawn shrugged. “Unless you want to risk getting crispy, we’d probably better stay here, then. What else is there to do?”

 

“You get to pick the book first, Bit, so you tell me,” he suggested.

 

Dawn stared at him, then her eyes lit up as she realized that Spike was going to keep his promise. “Okay. Um, you haven’t read Harry Potter yet, have you?” she asked. “Because nobody else ever gets my references—except maybe Willow, but she and Tara are really busy, and—” she realized she was babbling. “You can start with the first one.”

 

Spike frowned. “Aren’t those kiddie books?”

 

“Are you suggesting I’m a kid?”

 

Spike wasn’t stupid. He knew there was a right answer to that question. “Let’s have it then.”

 

Dawn raced upstairs, and soon returned with a well-worn paperback. “It won’t take you very long,” she stated, plopping down on her end of the couch with a different book.

 

Almost in spite of himself, Spike soon found himself drawn into the story. Plucky bunch of kids, magic, adventures, it might have been Sunnydale in good old England. He sped through the book as quickly as Dawn suggested he would, and they were soon embroiled in a discussion about the various characters.

 

“I’m just saying he’s not that bad, yeah?” Spike said, disagreeing with Dawn’s firm hatred of Professor Snape. “Saved Harry, didn’t he?”

 

Dawn blinked, trying to find some argument with that. “He hates Harry!” she protested. “And he makes his life miserable.”

 

“So he’s a mean bastard,” Spike agreed. “Doesn’t necessarily make a person evil. You can be on the right side of things and not be pure as the driven snow. It’s about being gray, not just black an’ white. He get more evil as things go on?”

 

Dawn opened her mouth to argue again, and then stopped. Snape didn’t get more evil, but she hated to ruin things for him. She still didn’t like Snape, but she could see Spike’s point. She also could see what he was talking about. It wasn’t just about a character in a book, it was about real life too. Spike was also talking about himself, in a way. “I still don’t like him.”

 

“You shouldn’t.” Spike looked over at her. “Man would stab you in the back, given half a chance, but he’s on the right side of the fight. That’s what counts—the end of things. Which side a man’s on.”

 

“Or a vampire?” Dawn asked slyly.

 

He gave her a wink, appreciating her cheek. “Or a vampire.”

 

“Do you think you have a soul?” Dawn asked, coming out of nowhere.

 

Spike thought about it for a moment. It was something he pondered on sleepless days. “Dunno,” he finally confessed. “Saw the people I’d wronged, yeah? And I was in their shoes. Suppose—suppose I understood finally, what it means to take somebody’s life.” There was a long pause, and then Spike said, “Soul’s bloody overrated, anyway. Plenty of people have a soul and still do nasty things to each other.”

 

“Do you think I have a soul?” Dawn asked.

 

“What makes you ask that, Bit?”

 

She shrugged. “I’m the Key, right? I look human, but do I have a soul?”

 

“Don’t think it matters,” Spike finally said. “What matters is the side you’re on, yeah?”

 

Dawn looked up at him from her spot on the floor. He was stretched out across the couch, looking a little sleepy, but still giving her his full attention. She realized she loved him. Not the love-love like he felt for Buffy, but the regular sort, like you had for friends and family. The kind you felt for anyone who would leave a really big hole in you if something happened to them. Dawn knew all about holes—she’d had to learn the hard way recently, but she thought Spike’s hole would be impossible to fill ever again. There would never be another person in the world who could be what Spike was to her, because what Spike was to her was unnamable. But in a good way.

 

“I love you.”

 

The words hung in the air, and in the silence that followed, Dawn refused to be ashamed of what she felt or what she had said. If the last few months had taught her anything at all, it was that nothing lasts forever.

 

“Love you too.” His eventual reply sealed the deal. It might as well have been a blood pact.

 

~~~~~

 

“So what did you and Dawn do all day?” Buffy asked later that night. She couldn’t help but be a little curious about what Spike would find so mesmerizing about her sister that he would willingly spend the day with her.

 

Spike shrugged. He could hear the tinge of jealousy in her tone, though he was fairly certain it was because of time spent, not because she thought he had designs on Dawn. Please. He wasn’t into children. Not like some he could name…

 

“Read a bit, watched the telly, nothing too fascinating.” Spike turned to look at her. “Jealous?”

 

“Of Dawn?” Buffy asked incredulously. “Please. As if. I mean, she’s not even sixteen yet.” She got to thinking of when she’d met Angel, and added, “Besides, you’re not the type.”

 

“Type of what?”

 

“Type to cheat,” Buffy explained off-handedly.

 

Spike stopped and stared at her. “I wouldn’t be cheating.” At her scowl, he hastened to add, “And even if I was going with someone else, it wouldn’t be Nibblet. She’s like—like family. It’d be incest.”

 

He looked truly disgusted, and Buffy decided to let that part of the conversation go. “Okay, but what do you mean, it ‘wouldn’t be cheating?’” She did a horrible British accent, and Spike stifled a laugh.

 

“I’m not seeing anybody,” he reminded her.

 

“But you’re in love with me.”

 

It was a statement, not a question, and her slightly imperious tone had him muttering under his breath, “Some days I have to wonder why.”

 

“What did you say?” Spike wouldn’t meet her eyes. Buffy finally sighed. “You’re technically right, Spike. It wouldn’t be cheating, since we aren’t dating.” There was a long pause, and she added softly, “But I think it might feel like cheating to both of us.”

 

He glanced over at her in surprise. Not wanting to push, happy just to have her admit it, Spike simply agreed. “Probably would at that.”

 

~~~~~

 

Lyndon held the handkerchief over his rather delicate nose. Mirok demons smelled like an open sewer as a rule, but these seemed to be especially fragrant specimens. “I want you to kill the Slayer,” he instructed them, ignoring their slavering grins. “Kill her friends too, if you like, and be sure to kill the vampire.”

 

“But—” He held up a hand in warning. “Be sure you kill the Slayer first. I want the vampire to see her die before his eyes. Do you understand?”

 

There were grunts and growls all around, and Lyndon took that as agreement. “Very well, children. Off you go.”


	3. When Life Throws You Lemons...

“What’s Spike doing here?” Xander asked his girlfriend. They were having a rather impromptu Scooby meeting in the Magic Box. After three weeks of Spike not being around, Xander had gotten rather used to the idea that he wouldn’t be.

 

Anya gave him a look that said she thought he was being stupid. “Spike and Buffy made up.”

 

“Made up? There was making up that needed to be done?” Xander was confused. “I thought Spike was just the muscle. He shows up when we need help.”

 

Anya rolled her eyes and didn’t dignify that rather idiotic statement with a reply. Anyone with eyes could tell that the unresolved sexual tension between Buffy and Spike was about to light them both on fire. She just hoped that when that tension got resolved, Buffy would grace them with the details. Anya would be willing to bet all the money in the till that Spike was a guy who would give many pleasurable orgasms. “You are planning on paying for that eye of newt, aren’t you?” she suddenly asked, heading towards Willow, who was picking up supplies for a little magical experimentation.

 

“Yes, I’m going to pay,” Willow said. “I learned my lesson with Olaf.”

 

Anya shrugged, suddenly looking unconcerned. “Well, as long as you do. Taking without paying screws up my entire inventory.”

 

Willow glanced over at Spike and Buffy, who seemed to be holding an intimate conversation over by the bookshelves. Spike had his hand planted by her head and was leaning in to listen. Buffy, rather than trying to pull back, kept looking away and then at him again in that flirty way. She was also doing that thing with her mouth that guys liked. “I was beginning to get concerned that Buffy was never going to talk to anyone again.”

 

“You mean because she was deeply depressed over the death of her mother?” Anya asked in her typical blunt manner. At Willow’s surprised look, Anya said, “What? I’ve been reading about these things, since no one else wanted to talk about it.”

 

Willow shrugged. “I guess.” She looked over at Dawn, who had her nose buried in a book. “I mean, all of us are pretty busy this summer. I was just worried about her and Dawn. With Joyce being gone, nobody’s really looking after the littlest Summers.”

 

“Except for Spike,” Tara pointed out. She’d been listening into the conversation in her quiet way. She, too, had noticed Buffy’s tendency towards isolation, and understood it better than anyone else. Tara hadn’t missed the way that Spike looked at the younger girl, as though he were trying to figure out the best way to take care of her. And Dawn seemed a lot happier the last few days.

 

Willow frowned. “Spike’s looking after Dawn? Is Buffy okay with that? I mean, it’s not like Spike would hurt her, but he just seems—”

 

“An unlikely babysitter?” Tara suggested, filling in the blank. The three girls watched as Spike came over to sit next to Dawn, making some comment that had her smacking him on the arm with her book. Xander made another comment from his seat, which soon had he and Spike bickering, and whatever they were saying soon had Dawn in stitches.

 

“What are we watching?” Buffy asked, coming up to stand next to them at the counter.

 

Anya glanced at her. “We’re watching your boyfriend and Dawn. He’s making her laugh.”

 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Buffy corrected her automatically, and then her face softened. “Spike does make her laugh, doesn’t he? I haven’t seen her do that for a while.”

 

“You either,” Willow observed. “Buffy, it’s okay if you like Spike. I mean, it’s pretty obvious that he makes you happy. It’s good—to be happy.”

 

Buffy smiled and then looked at the ground. “He does make me happy,” she confessed. “It’s just—we don’t know about the curse, or anything. And there are issues.”

 

“I think you should go for it.” Tara surprised all of them by putting in her two cents. “You don’t always get a lot of time, a-and sometimes unconventional relationships are okay.” She cast a loving look at Willow, who returned it with her own doe-eyes.

 

Buffy let out a little laugh. “At this point, I’m not sure me dating a vampire would be unconventional. More along the lines of history repeating itself.”

 

They all pondered that thought for a minute, and then Willow suggested, “Maybe you shouldn’t look at it like that. Besides, it’s not as if Spike has anything in common with Angel.” She paused. “Well, at least he can’t lose his soul.”

 

~~~~~

 

They had been patrolling for a couple hours when trouble struck. “What is that smell?” Buffy had her head up, scenting like a hound, and Spike turned to look. He caught a whiff of what the Slayer was smelling and just about gagged.

 

Spike stopped breathing. He had no desire to find out whether or not vampires could puke. Buffy turned to look back at Spike and found that he was just a little green. She wasn’t feeling so good herself. “What is that?”

 

Spike shook his head. He had to breathe to talk, and he wasn’t about to take another breath of that stench. The large, nasty looking demons coming up behind the Slayer had him revising the plan. “Slayer! Behind you!”

 

Buffy turned to see a slavering dog-thing demon leaping at her. She didn’t even have a chance to pull out a stake before it was on top of her. “Spike!”

 

“Little busy here, luv,” he called. Buffy managed to roll, getting the demon underneath her, rather than on top. She spared a glance to see Spike struggling with his own demon, which had managed to sink its teeth into his duster. She decided he had it under control though; her demon was going for her throat, and she couldn’t afford to be distracted.

 

The demon rolled again, putting her on the bottom, but Buffy had managed to get a stake out of her jacket. She rammed it into its chest, just as she heard Spike call out, “Don’t stake it!” The reason behind his warning soon became obvious as the demon disintegrated, soaking through her jacket and shirt right down to the skin in a stinking mess.

 

Buffy rolled to her knees, emptying her stomach onto the grass of the cemetery. Spike, meanwhile, had dispatched his demon by breaking its neck, leaving it to dissolve a safer distance away. He’d managed not to get any on himself, but the stench emanating from the Slayer was overpowering. “You alright?”

 

“Does it look like I’m alright?” Buffy asked, trying hard not to breathe and not having much success. “I need to get home—shower.”

 

Spike shook his head, wanting to go to her, but not wanting to join the sick-fest. “Not gonna help, Buffy,” he warned her. “That stuff won’t come off with a little soap an’ water.”

 

“You couldn’t have warned me about that before I staked it?” she moaned, trying not to throw up again.

 

He took a hesitant step towards her. “I know something that might help. If you head home, I’ll meet you there with supplies.”

 

“Well, it had better work,” she warned him. “Because I do not want to be this smelly forever.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike went to the all-night grocery store and stocked up on the necessary items, then headed over to Revello Drive. He knocked on the front door, only to have Dawn open it. “Where’s your sis?”

 

“Did you think I was really going to let her into the house?” she asked incredulously. “And have the whole place smelling like _that_? Please.”

 

Spike sighed. “So where is she?”

 

“Out back,” Dawn replied. “And I really hope you can help, because otherwise she’s going to be sleeping outside for a while.”

 

Spike brushed past her, giving her a doubtful look. “Well, I’ve heard this will work, but I’ve never had to use it before, personally.”

 

“What is it?” Dawn asked, following him through the kitchen as he went out the back door.

 

“Lemon juice.”

 

“Lemon juice?” Dawn demanded. “You’re trying to cure the smell by opening a lemonade stand?”

 

He gave her a dirty look. “Lemon _juice_ , not lemonade,” he corrected. Spike stepped outside, but didn’t see the Slayer. “Buffy? Luv? You out here?”

 

“Don’t come too close,” Buffy warned him. “Dawn already told me the stench was infiltrating the house.”

 

“It’s bad,” he agreed. “Look, I’ve got something that’ll help, but I’m not going to be able to talk. Not unless you want to see what I had for my last meal.”

 

“Please no,” Buffy said reverently. “What is it?”

 

“Lemon juice. I’ve heard it works for a lot of smells. Acid’ll pull it right out of your skin and hair.” Spike held up the grocery sack, full of bottles of lemon juice.

 

Buffy almost smiled. “You buy the store out?”

 

“Almost.” He hesitated. “I can go get Dawn or something. You’ll have to strip out of those clothes, burn them. She can—”

 

“Dawn won’t come near me,” Buffy replied. “And I can’t exactly blame her.” She hesitated. “No, it’s—it’s okay. Business, right?”

 

Spike nodded stiffly. “Yeah, sure. Business.” He went over to the backdoor and yelled inside for Dawn to bring out an old towel and washcloth she wouldn’t mind burning later. She returned a few minutes later with a faded pink towel and avocado green washcloth.

 

“Good luck,” she muttered, shoving the items through the door quickly and shutting it again. Spike shook his head and turned towards Buffy.

 

She was pale enough that he could tell, even in the moonlight, and her face still had a faint green tinge. “Okay. So how are we doing this?” she asked.

 

“Do the hair first,” he replied. “But you’ll need to get rid of those clothes. And I’m not talking while we do this. If I don’t talk, I don’t have to breathe.”

 

“Right. Maybe a little closer to the shadows? I don’t really want the neighbors calling the cops on me for indecent exposure.” Buffy managed to smile a little, and their eyes met for a long moment.

 

Spike’s mouth tipped upward in a lopsided smile. “Don’t think they can get you in your own backyard, pet. But it’s not a bad idea.”

 

They moved closer to the house, where the shadows were deeper. Buffy looked into Spike’s face, looking for anything inappropriate, but found nothing but a sort of infinite patience in his expression. He would do anything for her, wait as long as he had to for her. It gave her the courage she needed to be bare before him, in so many different ways.

 

She nodded once in response to what she saw. Her movements deliberate, Buffy shook her hair down out of the clip that held it and then pulled her shirt over her head. She’d already taken the jacket off, and she pitched the shirt after it, into the darkness.

 

She could see Spike visibly swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He pulled a couple bottles of lemon juice out of his sack and motioned for Buffy to put her head down. He used two of the bottles of lemon juice on her hair, making sure that he got all of it saturated. Using a washcloth soaked in lemon juice, he tenderly wiped her face, then her neck.

 

They both froze as they tried to decide what to do next. It was Buffy who finally moved first, turning her back to him and unclasping her bra, allowing him to pour the lemon juice on her back. His movements were sure and gentle, firm and tender. It left her incredibly aroused, even if this was not the best time for it.

 

The cold shower would come later.

 

Spike handed her another bottle and the washcloth and then turned his back so she could do the rest. He tried not to look, resisting the temptation to turn around by thinking of the most non-erotic things he could. It wasn’t working.

 

He’d need a cold shower later. Or something.

 

There was a soft, “I’m done,” from behind him, and he turned to find Buffy wrapped in a towel. “Spike, thanks. I think the smell’s actually fading.”

 

Spike took a cautious sniff, and although the stink was still present, it was centered on the clothes that lay in a pile off to the side. From the Slayer all he got was the overwhelming scent of lemons. “Glad to help. Hate to have to stay away from you for long enough to have that stink wear off.”

 

“Yeah, that would be bad. I think I’d probably end up living in the back yard.” There was an awkward silence, where both of them struggled with what to say. “Spike?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Do you—do you want to stay? Tonight, I mean?”

 

Did he want to stay? Did birds have wings? (Did the Slayer really want him?) “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

 

Buffy looked disappointed. “Oh. You’re probably right. I should—”

 

Spike let out a growl of frustration and then kissed her—deep, bruising, needy, letting her know exactly what it was that he wanted. “I don’t do halfway, Slayer,” he warned, when he finally broke it off.

 

“Neither do I,” she replied. The tension held, pulled between them like a trip-wire, ready to cause both of their lives to explode. They both felt it: the relationship they were thinking of embarking on was a dangerous one. They were mortal enemies; they were supposed to hate each other.

 

And they could both honestly say that hatred was the furthest thing from their minds.

 

Spike was the first to break eye contact, and he chuckled, looking away into the night. “You need to shower the rest of the lemon and demon goo off of you, luv. And I have a feeling you’re going to be ready for sleep after that. Not what I had in mind.”

 

Buffy laughed ruefully. “You’re probably right about that,” she admitted. “My stomach’s still a little queasy anyway.”

 

Spike pulled her in, gave her a sweet kiss on the lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow sometime, yeah?”

 

“Sure.” Buffy watched him swagger off, and sighed. Definitely there was going to be a very cold shower.

 

~~~~~

 

Lyndon cursed, surprised at how handily the Slayer had taken care of his Miroks. For a girl who seemed curiously unable to kill vampires, she handled demons with finesse. Of course, the Miroks had been hampered by his instructions to kill the Slayer first, and not to kill the vampire.

 

The warlock frowned, considering his options. Maybe this was for the best. He could harry the Slayer and vampire, soften them up, until he was ready to make the move himself. She had friends and family that he could go after. Knowing Spike as he did, the threat against the Slayer’s loved ones would be just as effective as a threat to the girl herself.

 

He would send his demons after them. He would wait until the right moment, and then he would kill them all. With the Slayer gone, Sunnydale would be his, and the power of the Hellmouth would be at his fingertips. No longer would he have to be concerned about missing his opportunity to become like a god; Lyndon would use the power inherent in Sunnydale to rule this town, and eventually the world.

 

But first—first he would play.


	4. Dream a Little Dream

Buffy slipped into Spike’s house shortly before sunset. Giles had called a meeting to discuss the Mirok demons they had killed the previous night. Buffy had wanted to wait until Spike could make it to the Magic Box for the meeting, and while Giles had sounded surprised at her request, he hadn’t objected.

 

She wasn’t quite sure what to feel about the vampire these days. Buffy most certainly had had no intention of falling for him, but plans could change pretty quickly in Sunnydale, and she found herself revising that idea. She didn’t think she was in love with him. Yet. And that was the key word, because her heart was rapidly becoming engaged in this relationship in a way that was of the non-friend variety. As much as she might like to leave their relationship on the “friend” level, she didn’t think it would be possible.

 

Buffy was just too darn attracted to him for one thing. When you started listing the pros and cons of a relationship with Spike, on the cons side was the fact that he was a vampire, and that he could be really annoying. On the pros side, however, were the facts that he made her laugh, he was a good listener, he loved her sister, he could take care of himself in a fight, and he was a hottie. Given her dating history, the vampire thing should have outweighed everything else, but Buffy couldn’t make herself care as much as she should.

 

She sighed as she looked around his living room, not having been there since before he’d started decorating. Dawn had told her it looked pretty nice, and Buffy had to admit that it did. Other than the generally dilapidated look, it really wasn’t too bad. It had a certain haunted house-esque charm, especially since she knew it wasn’t haunted.

 

Buffy was heading past the stairs and back into the kitchen to snoop a little further when she heard sounds from upstairs. Knowing that Spike had chosen the one bedroom that had a northern exposure, she headed up, concerned. She passed the doors to the two other bedrooms and the bathroom, and entered Spike’s without knocking.

 

She never had found out where he’d managed to dig up the bed he was using. He was smack dab in the middle of it, bare-chested, and tangled in the blankets and sheets, tossing his head and moaning something. Hesitating for a moment, Buffy went to his side, calling quietly, so as not to startle him, “Spike. Spike, come on, it’s me. Wake up.”

 

When he didn’t come out of his dream right away, she reached over and touched his shoulder, finally grasping him more firmly in order to shake him out of it. When he finally woke, he did so with a gasp and a shudder, sitting up abruptly. For Buffy, who had no idea that vampires even dreamed, let alone had nightmares, it was something of a surprise. “Hey. You okay?”

 

Spike stared at her for a moment, his blue eyes unseeing, until he could finally focus and nod shakily. “Bad dream?” she asked. “You get those often?”

 

He managed to shrug. “Once in a while. Not as bad as it was at first.”

 

Buffy didn’t bother to ask what he was referring to, since she already knew. She reached out and rubbed circles on his back, as she might do for her sister or one of her friends. Of course, she didn’t get those little tinglies with anyone else. “I’ll be alright,” he said finally, closing his eyes in pleasure as she kept her hand on his back, bare skin to bare skin, warmth to coolness.

 

“Giles called a meeting,” she explained quietly. “We’re supposed to meet him at the Magic Box. It should be safe for you to leave pretty soon.”

 

“Where’s the Nibblet?” he asked, his eyes still closed. Buffy’s hand seemed to be moving of its own volition, tracing patterns on his skin, though Spike wasn’t about to complain.

 

Buffy smiled. “Tara and Willow took her to the mall this afternoon. I had to work and she wanted to shop for a swimming suit. I think she said something about night swimming?”

 

Spike gave a little grunt. “Told her to ask you first.”

 

“And I already said yes,” Buffy replied. “In fact, I think I might go with you, since you’ll probably need the Slayer along.”

 

He opened his eyes to meet hers. “She needs you, luv.”

 

“I know,” she replied quietly. “I just—some days it’s so overwhelming to think about everything, I was kind of blocking it out. I’m glad you can be there for her.”

 

“Then you don’t mind?” he asked.

 

“I should,” Buffy replied, “but no. I trust you to take care of her.”

 

Spike blinked, and she could tell that her words touched him. “Thank you.”

 

Her hand left his back to trace his cheekbone. “Get dressed, Spike,” she advised him. “We’ve still got to make that meeting.”

 

~~~~~

 

He dressed quickly, and they left together. Half jokingly, Spike offered his arm to Buffy, hardly thinking she’d take it. She laughed at his slight bow, however, and tucked her hand through the crook of his elbow as if it was the most natural thing on earth. She might have kept her hand there even as they entered the shop, regardless of the eyebrows she was sure to raise. Spike had other ideas, and he stepped ahead to gallantly open the door for her. Buffy was smiling more brightly than she had in a long time when she entered.

 

Willow and Tara exchanged looks. It was about time Buffy started smiling again. The Slayer had been miserable the last few weeks, and if being with Spike was what it took, then they had no problem with that. “Hey, Buffy. Hey, Spike,” Willow said brightly, even as Tara gave a little wave.

 

“Wait till you see my new suit,” Dawn said brightly. “It’s so cool. And it’s a two piece!”

 

Buffy looked at her friends, a little alarmed, but Willow gave a reassuring smile. “It’s really not bad, Buffy.”

 

Tara added. “It does look good. And it’s not too—you know.”

 

“Good,” Buffy stated. She gave Dawn a stern look. “Because you’re way too young to be looking like a swim suit model.”

 

“As if,” Dawn replied stiffly. “Like I’d really want to look like a big ho.”

 

Buffy gave an inner sigh of relief. Dawn hadn’t pushed her too hard on dress yet, but the Slayer could remember certain conversations with her mother all too well. Trying to explain to her younger sister that she couldn’t wear certain things was not something she was looking forward to. “So where’s Giles?”

 

“Right here,” he said, coming down the stairs from the loft. “I’ve been trying to find references to the demons the two of you ran into on patrol last night. Spike, you did say they were Miroks?”

 

Spike nodded. “Pretty sure. I’ve run into a couple before, and that’s not a smell you forget.”

 

“I would imagine not,” the Watcher replied. He raised an eyebrow as Xander and Anya came up from the storeroom, hastily straightening clothing and smoothing hair. “So nice of you to join us.”

 

Xander flushed an even deeper red. “Sorry, we, uh, couldn’t find that thing you sent us down for.”

 

Anya fluffed her hair in her usual straightforward manner. “The bin for the bindweed is empty. We’ll have to order more. Besides, Xander’s been so busy working, he hasn’t had time to give me nearly as many orgasms as usual.”

 

There was the usual pained silence that followed one of Anya’s announcements, along with Spike’s barely disguised snickers of amusement. Spike still got a great deal of enjoyment out of Anya’s rather inappropriate comments; he always had.

 

Giles cleared his throat. “Yes, well, make a note of it, Anya, and we’ll get that order in tomorrow. Now, as for the demons you saw last night. Miroks are not typically found in well-populated areas. In fact, they’re scavengers. It’s odd that they would be here in town. If you were closer to the dump—”

 

“We were miles from the dump, Giles,” Buffy interjected. “If that’s the case, they were way out of their normal feeding grounds.”

 

Spike snorted. “Well, if they normally eat dead things they had one out of two right.”

 

There were some rather disgusted looks from the others at the table, and Giles gave him a reproving look. “Spike. It’s odd that they would attack the two of you. Buffy said they were going for the throat.”

 

“No,” Spike said. “That’s not entirely true. They went for Buffy’s throat. Mirok that came after me worried at my coat a bit, but that was it.”

 

“So they were specifically after Buffy?” Willow asked. “Does that mean someone’s after the Slayer again?”

 

Xander looked alarmed. “Another apocalypse? Didn’t we just have one of those? Normally we get a break.”

 

“We don’t know that it’s an apocalypse,” Giles said reproachfully. “Though the odd behavior of the Mirok demons does seem to indicate something strange. If they were going specifically after Buffy for some reason, it would seem that the Slayer is a target.”

 

“The Slayer, or me,” Spike said quietly. “Anybody who knows me would know the best way to get to me.”

 

Dawn frowned. “But who would want to go after you, Spike?”

 

“Try anybody I’ve pissed off in the last couple years,” he mumbled.

 

Willow looked concerned. “Do you think that’s a possibility? I know you’ve made a lot of enemies, helping us.”

 

Buffy shook her head. “That doesn’t make any sense, Spike. There’s no reason they would go after me, just to get to you.”

 

He cocked his head to the side. “Can’t you think of a reason, luv?”

 

The tone of his voice made it very obvious what that reason might be. It wasn’t news to anyone in the room except for Xander, who had willingly kept himself in the dark. “Okay, wait a minute,” he protested, holding up a hand. “What is he saying?”

 

The rest of the group ignored him, already knowing what Spike was trying to say. “Do you really think that’s the case?” Giles asked.

 

“Dunno,” Spike said quietly.

 

“There’s no way to know that.” To everyone’s surprise, it was Tara who spoke. She glanced away shyly as all eyes turned to her, and then looked over at Spike, sensing his distress. “Those demons could have been sent after Buffy.”

 

He gave her a grateful look, but shook his head slightly. “Best way to hurt me would be to go after the Slayer, or the Little Bit,” he said regretfully. “If that’s the case, maybe I should make myself scarce for a while. If ‘m not around—”

 

“No!” Dawn said, sounding betrayed. “Spike! You promised you’d stay!”

 

“Nibblet—”

 

“You can’t go!”

 

“Dawn, I’m sure Spike only has your best interests in mind,” Giles said firmly, unsure of why exactly he was defending SPike, but doing so anyway. He had some idea of what the offer to leave had cost him, and couldn’t help but feel a small spark of respect.

 

Dawn glared at Spike, unappeased. “You promised.”

 

“Dawnie, Spike isn’t going anywhere,” Buffy said firmly. “It doesn’t matter who the target is, because in the end it’s all the same. They’ll come after me, maybe they’ll come after Dawn, but what’s new?” She looked at Spike. “If you’re the target, and the best way to hurt you is to hurt us, they can do it with you here or with you gone. At least if you’re here, you can help defend us and yourself.”

 

Spike looked like he might argue, but fell silent. Xander was still trying to catch up. “Spike likes Buffy? As in, like-likes?”

 

Anya patted her boyfriend’s leg comfortingly. “I’ll tell you when we get home, honey.” To the group at large she explained, “He’s a little slow sometimes.”

 

Giles harrumphed. “I think we should all be on the look out,” he said. “Until we have a better idea of who is behind this and who the target is, I think it’s wise that we keep our wits about us and not go off half-cocked.” He looked specifically at Spike as he said this.

 

“Well, if that’s it, I still need to do a sweep, and I should get Dawn home,” Buffy said, standing. Her sister stood to follow her, and the Slayer looked over at Spike. “You coming?”

 

He hesitated. “I don’t know—” At her glare, he stood and followed her, looking rather glummer than was usual.

 

When the door shut behind them, Xander looked around the room. “Okay. Why do I feel like I’m missing something here?”

 

“Maybe because you are,” Willow suggested, though enough under her breath that no one but Tara heard her.

 

Giles looked at the young man. “Relax. I’m sure Buffy knows what she’s doing.” It was too bad that he sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as the rest of them.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike and Buffy trailed slightly behind Dawn, who was obviously still miffed. He was looking much more gloomy than he had on the way to the meeting, and Buffy had to wonder why Spike had jumped to the conclusion that he was the target so quickly. He could be arrogant, sure, but she didn’t think he was paranoid. “You want to tell me what you’re thinking?” she asked softly, so that her sister wouldn’t overhear.

 

“Just seems strange, is all,” he replied. “Last night that demon went for your throat, not mine. Wasn’t even trying to bite me hardly. If you were the target, wouldn’t they have gone after you and anybody with you?”

 

It was a good question, though not one Buffy had an answer for. “Maybe. Who do you think it is?” When he didn’t answer right away, she asked a question that had been bothering her for a while. “Do you think that warlock would come back?”

 

“I dunno,” he replied. “I didn’t think he would, not at first, but I’m not so sure now. I buggered him up but good, pet. I’ve always wondered if he wouldn’t come back, if maybe he got bored, or—”

 

“Or decided his revenge wasn’t good enough?” she finished for him. “There’s no way to be sure, Spike. Not right now. And I can take care of myself.” Buffy smiled at him. “Actually, after that nightmare I walked in on today, it’s you I’m more concerned about.”

 

“I’ll be fine,” he said, as they approached the house. “Look, why don’t you spend some time with the Nibblet. I know she’d like that. I’ll do the sweep for you.”

 

Buffy frowned. She wasn’t sure she wanted Spike off on his own, just in case he was the target, and whoever was behind this whole thing decided to go for his heart. On the other hand, Buffy couldn’t be with him all day, every day. “Be careful.”

 

“Will do,” he replied. He called after Dawn, who was waiting impatiently on the front steps for Buffy to unlock the door. Apparently, she’d forgotten her keys again. “G’night, Li’l Bit.”

 

Deliberately, she turned her back to him, and Spike winced. “I’ll talk to her,” Buffy said quietly. “And I’ll send her by tomorrow afternoon. It’s probably better if she’s staying with someone, and it might as well be you.” She gave him a kiss on his cheek, and Spike gave her a wistful smile before he strode away into the night.

 

Buffy unlocked the front door, and watched as Dawn quickly climbed the stairs. She sighed, wondering just when it was that talking to her younger sister had become so difficult. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Dawn, it was just that it took so much energy to deal with her. Buffy didn’t quite understand why Spike found it so easy to relate to her. Perhaps it was because half the time they both acted like they were the same age. Perhaps it was only that he seemed to have an infinite amount of fortitude when it concerned the Summers women.

 

She came to stand in the doorway of Dawn’s room and watched as her sister rearranged items on her dresser. “Whatcha doing?”

 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Dawn replied, her tone snippy.

 

Buffy sighed. “Dawn, don’t be angry at Spike.”

 

“Why not?” the younger girl demanded. “He promised he was going to stay. He said he would do a book club with me. He was reading the Harry Potter books so we could talk about them. We were supposed to go night swimming.”

 

“I know,” Buffy said, struggling for the words to say. She watched as Dawn sat down on her bed, and she sat next to her, remembering another time when they’d been in this position. No, a thousand other times. Dawn’s angry, and Buffy comforts her. But who comforts the comforter? It wasn’t a question Buffy had ever attempted to answer before this. Now, the answer was simple. Spike.

 

“Sometimes,” she began, “we have to do things to protect the people we love, even though we know it will hurt them for a little while. I know that Spike would do anything to protect you.”

 

“But he promised,” Dawn whispered, poised between a saddened understanding and betrayed anger.

 

Buffy sighed and pulled Dawn to her, so that her sister’s head rested on her shoulder. Dawn, in response, scooted in and allowed Buffy to stroke her hair soothingly. “I really think that it would hurt Spike just as much to leave as it would hurt you to see him go.”

 

“What about you?” Dawn asked. “Would it hurt you if he left?”

 

“Why do you think I asked him to stay?”

 

“It’s not fair,” Dawn finally muttered.

 

Buffy stroked, the movement soothing her as much as Dawn. “What isn’t fair, sweetie?”

 

“Everything. Life. Death.”

 

“Mom?” Buffy asked softly, already knowing the answer. They hadn’t spoken of Joyce’s death since the night Dawn had attempted the resurrection spell, and Buffy wondered now if that hadn’t been a mistake.

 

Dawn turned her face into Buffy’s shoulder. “I miss her.”

 

“Me too, Dawnie.” Buffy blew out a breath, fighting tears. She wanted to be strong for Dawn, not quite realizing that it would be a relief for her sister to see her cry. A relief to know that she wasn’t the only person feeling as if she was half-crazy with grief. “I’m sorry I’m the Slayer. I know that makes it harder for you.”

 

“I’m not,” Dawn replied suddenly, sitting up and looking Buffy in the eyes. She could see that her older sister was on the verge of tears herself, and suddenly the last few weeks just fell away. “If you weren’t the Slayer, I wouldn’t know Spike probably. And I’m proud of you. You do important stuff. I just wish—”

 

“What?”

 

“I wish you would talk to me more,” Dawn said wistfully. “It’s like we always talked to Mom, but now that she’s not here, we don’t talk to anybody.”

 

“We talk to Spike,” Buffy said, with a small smile at the incongruity of that statement. “But you’re right. We should talk more.”

 

“Do you have to work so much?” Dawn asked plaintively. “I mean, couldn’t you be here more?”

 

Buffy shook her head. She hadn’t wanted to share any of this with Dawn, wanting to protect her from some of the realities the world was throwing at them. “We need the money. Mom’s insurance didn’t leave a lot left over after the hospital bills. If we’re careful—and if I work—we’ll be fine, but I can’t afford to slack.” Seeing the disappointed look on her sister’s face, and remembering what Spike had said about Dawn wanting to spend time with her, she said, “Why don’t we plan on spending at least one night a week together when I’m not working? We’ll rent those movies Mom used to watch all the time and make popcorn.”

 

“Okay,” Dawn said, sounding almost enthusiastic. “But can we invite Spike sometimes, too? I think he feels better when he’s around other people.”

 

Buffy nodded. Dawn was proving to be quite perceptive when she wanted to be, and she certainly didn’t mind having the blond vampire around. He made things seem bearable, and it was for that reason that she could understand Dawn wanting to spend time with him. “I think you’re right. Moping is definitely not Spike’s style, but he’s been getting way too close to it these days.”

 

Dawn leaned her head down on Buffy’s leg. “I love you.”

 

“I love you, too.” Buffy was suddenly terribly grateful that there was another person who understood. Spike did his best, and his best was very good, but Dawn had lost her mother too. They understood each other, and there was joy in the understanding.


	5. Corrupting the Young

Spike woke late the next morning. He hadn’t been able to get more than a few hours sleep for a while now, so it didn’t surprise him that he had woken before noon. He was incredibly relieved to be able to scent Dawn in the house. As angry as she had been last night, Spike wasn’t entirely certain she would agree to come over.

 

When he straggled down the stairs, she stood from the couch to greet him. “Hey, Bit.” Dawn stalked over to him and kicked him sharply in the shin. “Ow,” he protested.

 

“That was for even thinking about leaving.” Dawn glared at him fiercely.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

 

Her glare softened. “You can’t leave, Spike.”

 

“Not going to,” he replied. “Not sure I could.” He considered the girl for a minute, then said, “Come on.”

 

“Where are we going?” Dawn asked, surprised. “Buffy said we were just supposed to hang out today.”

 

Spike shrugged. “No sense in hanging out here,” he replied. “Easiest place to find either one of us. Let’s go.”

 

The vampire threw on a leather jacket and grabbed a blanket before making a mad dash for the sewers. Dawn, with some nose wrinkling, followed. The girl was still trying to decide if following Spike through the tunnels was very cool or very icky when she realized that his duster was missing. “Spike? Where’s your coat?”

 

“Huh?” He turned to look at her, momentarily distracted from figuring their route. “Oh, it got some of that stink on it the other night. I’m hoping it airs out after a while, or I won’t be wearing it again.”

 

Dawn frowned in disappointment. “That sucks,” she commented. “That’s the coolest coat.”

 

There was a strange look that passed over Spike’s face, but he simply nodded. “Yeah. It was.”

 

“Have you had it for a long time?” she asked, unaware of the potential land mines that question could set off.

 

Spike hesitated, then nodded, slowing down so that they were walking side by side. “Yeah. About thirty years now, I guess. Long time.”

 

“Is there a story to how you got it?” Dawn asked eagerly, sensing that there was, and dying to know. As attached as Spike was to the coat, she couldn’t help but think it had some sort of sentimental value. What she wasn’t thinking about were the implications of using “sentimental value” and “vampire” in the same sentence.

 

Spike shook his head. “Not much of one. Not anything you’d want to hear, at least.”

 

“Come on,” Dawn coaxed, punching him in the arm. “I know there’s a story there. How’d you get it?”

 

“It’s not important,” Spike insisted.

 

“Please?”

 

“Let it go, Dawn,” Spike flared, and immediately felt guilty when Dawn’s face fell alarmingly. He sighed, realizing that he’d scared her. The girl had never seen him angry before, not with her anyway. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s not something I want to think about, and it’s not a story for little ears. Your sis would kill me if I told you.”

 

Dawn scowled. “I’m not a baby, Spike.”

 

“Yeah, you are,” he replied, half serious. When her frown deepened, he sighed, looking over at her. “Look, luv, you’re fourteen. I’m a hundred and—” Spike quickly did the math, then blinked. “I’m a lot older than you,” he improvised. “To me, you’re a baby.”

 

“Then Buffy should be a baby too,” Dawn replied archly, with impeccable logic. She knew she’d scored when Spike grunted instead of giving her a real reply. “Spike—”

 

Hearing the wheedling quality in her voice, Spike turned to look at her seriously. “You really think you’re old enough to hear this?” he asked, his tone hard. Dawn was a girl still, but if she insisted on growing up, he wasn’t going to pull his punches. She nodded. “Pulled that coat off a dead Slayer. A Slayer I killed in New York, back in the 70’s. We fought, I snapped her neck, and I took her coat as a trophy. Satisfied?”

 

Dawn stared at her friend, not sure how she was supposed to feel now. If she thought she’d be happy that he had told her, she was wrong. Instead, she felt a little sick. Dawn had never really seen Spike as someone to be afraid of. She had only ever heard of Buffy speak of Spike as an irritant, not as any real threat. He’d drunk cocoa in her kitchen and moaned about his love life to her mother. Suddenly, however, Dawn understood that he had truly been a killer. Not just a vampire, but the Slayer of Slayers.

 

Spike wouldn’t meet her eyes as he watched understanding wash across her features. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you.”

 

“I’m glad you did,” Dawn said, trying to sound sure of herself. “It means you really have changed. Nobody else seems to get that, but I do.” When Spike shook his head, as if to contradict her, Dawn grabbed his hand. “I watched that demon almost slice you in half because you wanted to protect me. I didn’t get it before, how much that meant.”

 

Spike pulled her to his chest, almost against his own will, aware of the strange picture that they made. A young girl and a vampire, bonding in the sewer tunnels. “Would kill me if something happened to you,” he explained. “I’d do anything to keep you safe, including turning the world upside down.”

 

She nodded, and pulled away. “So, where are we going?”

 

“The movies,” he replied, pointing down the tunnel.

 

Dawn looked at him. “Spike, I don’t have any money for the movies.”

 

He gave her an evil grin. “Way we’re doing this, we don’t need money.”

 

~~~~~

 

Dawn had never snuck into a movie theater before, especially not through the sewers. She had to admit that it was fun, the jolt of adrenalin, stemming from fear of being caught, adding spice to the adventure. Since she was certain that sneaking into a movie without paying would definitely be on Buffy’s list of “Things That Corrupt My Kid Sister,” she’d resolved not to tell her where they’d been.

 

Spike seemed to agree, and they decided to tell her they’d done nothing when they met her back at the Summers’ house, as agreed. What they hadn’t considered was that Buffy would know they weren’t at Spike’s all day.

 

“Where have you guys been?” she demanded.

 

Spike and Dawn exchanged guilty glances, telling Buffy that she probably didn’t want to know. “Went to the movies,” Spike finally admitted, as casually as possible.

 

His tone was way too innocent for there not to be any more to the story than that, and Buffy cocked one eyebrow in disbelief. “Okay. What else did you do today?”

 

“We went to a couple movies,” Dawn said. As she was a much better liar than Spike was, she artfully changed the subject. “You weren’t supposed to be home for a while.”

 

“I got off early,” Buffy said. “It was slow and there were too many waitresses.” She sighed. “Look, I don’t know what has the two of you looking like _that_ , but I don’t want to know. Just—Spike, don’t even think about getting Dawn into any kind of trouble. Social Services would just love it if I screwed up.”

 

“We’re not going to get into trouble. You think I’d let them catch us?” Spike winced, realizing that he’d tacitly admitted to illegal activity.

 

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Pay for the movies next time, okay?” She shook her head. “I swear, you two…”

 

“What’s for dinner?” Dawn asked, wanting to change the subject as quickly as possible.

 

Buffy shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t even think there’s anything in the fridge right now. I haven’t had time to go grocery shopping the last couple days. We can pick something up on the way to the Magic Box.”

 

“Another meeting tonight?” Spike asked.

 

Buffy sighed. “Something like that. I told him we’d stop by before patrol, anyway, and I need to get some training done. Also, Willow and Tara are working on protection spells for the house and the shop. Willow offered to do your house too.”

 

Spike looked touched and doubtful at the same time. “Dunno. It’s nice of them to offer, but magic can have funny consequences.”

 

“Oh, Tara and Willow can handle it,” Dawn assured him. “They’re kick-ass witches.”

 

“Dawn! Language!” Buffy reproved. Turning to Spike, she asked, “Are you coming?”

 

He shook his head, waving a hand at the light filtering through the curtains of the living room. “Too bright out just yet. I’ll take the tunnels and meet you there after a bit. I’m feeling a bit peckish anyway, so I should swing by my place first.”

 

Buffy’s cheeks turned just a little pink as she said, “Actually, I got some blood for you the other day. You could just eat here and follow. Or we could wait.”

 

Dawn sighed. If Spike and Buffy kept it up with the googly eyes, she was going to be sick. “Just let me know when we’re going to leave,” she said, smiling as she turned away and went up the stairs. As disgusting as they could be, she still thought it was sweet, the way they seemed to try and not let the other notice how much they liked each other.

 

It would be so great if they got together. They could be like a real family.

 

~~~~~

 

Lyndon looked at his next weapons. Effrendiks were difficult to control, but if he could manage this, he could cause the Slayer and Spike quite a bit of trouble. He hardly thought the Slayer wanted an insane vampire on her hands. Such an ordeal should soften them up nicely for his next trick.

 

And that was going to be a stunner.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike, Buffy and Dawn came strolling through the front door of the Magic Box shortly after the sun had set. Buffy went to the back of the store to talk to Giles, while Dawn and Spike went to the table where Willow and Tara were going over some books. Spike sprawled out in the chair next to Dawn, looking with some interest at the books that were spread out. “What’s that then?”

 

“Books dealing with spells of protection,” Willow explained. “We’re trying to find a way to put wards up on everybody’s house. We started thinking about it with Glory, but we just didn’t get the chance to do it right.”

 

Anya called out from behind the cash register, “Just make sure you pay for the ingredients you use.”

 

“Yes, Anya,” Willow said, muttering under her breath, “You think she’d give us a discount when we’re doing the wards on her house.”

 

The others at the table snickered, just thinking about Anya giving a discount to anybody for any reason at all. “We think we’ve finally got it right. In fact, we’re planning on getting started tonight.”

 

Dawn’s eyes lit up. “Can I help?” At Willow’s quelling look, she amended it. “Can I at least watch?”

 

“So, do you want us to put the wards up on your house, Spike?” Willow asked, rather than answering Dawn’s question.

 

Spike was still looking doubtful, although he could certainly see the value of it. “You won’t hurt anything will you? I’ll still be able to come and go, and all that?”

 

Tara smiled at him. “It will just give a warning if someone tries to come in who doesn’t belong there. Or if there are magical attacks.”

 

“Well, that’s okay then,” Spike said, still sounding hesitant. “Long as I don’t wake up as a frog at some point.”

 

“That might be an improvement,” Buffy teased, her smile growing wider at the glare Spike shot at her. She had approached the table during the course of the conversation with Giles in tow. Xander was looking at the interplay between the two of them with a sense of growing alarm.

 

Xander might have said something, but Anya came over to him just then and stepped hard on his foot, seemingly reading his mind. He yelped, and then quickly shut his mouth, giving everyone a sheepish look. “Sorry.”

 

Giles looked over those assembled. “Very well. Buffy and Spike will patrol tonight, and Willow and Tara will work on protection wards.”

 

“Wait, do we get jobs?” Xander asked raising his hand.

 

Buffy looked over at him. “I want you guys to watch Dawn. She doesn’t need to be around while the magic stuff is going on.”

 

“But I could help!” Dawn protested. “Or I could be on my own. I am fourteen.”

 

The Slayer didn’t look convinced. “Willow and Tara need to concentrate. And the last time you were left on your own, you got kidnapped to raise a Hellgod.”

 

“So not my fault,” the younger Summers pointed out. “Come on, Buffy. You can’t protect me from this stuff forever. I’m not a kid anymore. I’ll bet Spike agrees with me.”

 

Spike went from looking slightly bored to incredibly alarmed. “Uh, you know, I don’t really have an opinion here.”

 

“How novel,” Giles murmured sarcastically.

 

Tara, ever the peacemaker, spoke up. “Buffy, it’s really okay if Dawn stays with us. I know Xander and Anya could probably use some alone time, and it might be safer. You know, to be with the powerful witches.”

 

Buffy hesitated and then finally nodded. “Fine. Dawn, you can stay with Willow and Tara, but try not to get in the way.”

 

Dawn waited until her sister turned to leave before she stuck her tongue out at her. Spike gave her a look and then smiled at her conspiratorially. “Tell you what,” he whispered, “I’ll teach you some moves tomorrow, yeah? We’ll have our own training practice, Bit.” He swaggered out after Buffy, and Xander barely waited for the door to close, before opening his mouth.

 

“What is going on here?” he demanded. “Buffy is getting way too cozy with the vampire.”

 

“He makes her happy, Xander,” Willow said, knowing a little more about what was going on. She and Buffy’d had a long conversation just the day before. “After everything that’s happened, I can’t see how that’s a bad thing.”

 

Xander’s eyes widened. “Vampire! Evil undead!” he exclaimed, as though it should be self-explanatory.

 

“Buffy is old enough to make her own decisions regarding her relationships,” Giles said stiffly. “She will have to simply make her own mistakes and be willing to live with the consequences.”

 

“Like lots of sex?” Anya asked cheerfully. “You know, vampires have great stamina. He’s probably a good match for the Slayer.”

 

Giles and Xander both looked horrified at the images she just invoked, and Tara hastened to smooth things over. “Buffy knows what she’s doing. And Spike’s aura has changed.”

 

The others looked at her. “What are you saying, Tara?” Giles asked, feeling a little stupid for not asking Tara if she knew the extent of Spike’s changes. She was quite an expert, especially when it came to natural magicks.

 

Tara looked surprised. “It’s been changing for a while now, but it took a turn after that warlock hurt him. I—I thought everybody knew, you know, that he had his soul.”

 

“Angel said he didn’t have a soul, though,” Willow stated. “You were—you weren’t there.” Willow was beginning to get a strange look on her face. “You had class the day that Buffy was telling us, so you wouldn’t have really known.”

 

Tara looked a little confused, not exactly sure what conversation they were referring to, since she wasn’t there for it. “Known?” She looked at her girlfriend. “Well, I don’t know what—Angel said, but as far as I know Spike does have a soul. He—he’s changed on a very fundamental level.”

 

Giles’ brows drew together as he pulled his glasses off to clean them. “Then I wonder what Angel knew that he wasn’t telling us.”

 

~~~~~

 

The attack came as a surprise, out of nowhere. They should have expected it, but both Spike and Buffy had been a little too caught up in each other to be highly aware of their surroundings. Unlike the last ambush, however, it wasn’t Buffy that the demons headed for immediately.

 

All three of the tall, wraith-like demons headed for Spike, ignoring the Slayer completely. They piled on the vampire, seemingly trying to rip him apart with their bare—well, “hands” wasn’t quite right. Bony claws with a thin sheathe of skin were all they were, but they were quite effective in tearing at his shirt, putting long, thin scratches into his skin.

 

“Spike!” Buffy called, throwing herself into the fight. She pulled one of the demons off of him, running a stake through where its heart should have been. “You okay?”

 

“Think so,” he called, trying to get far enough away from the demons so he could get some fighting room. “You seen any of these guys before?”

 

Buffy was still struggling with the demon she had tried to stake. It wasn’t dying, and she wasn’t sure what she was going to do. “No, these are new to me.” Her demon abruptly pulled away and launched itself back at Spike. Buffy let out a growl of frustration. “That’s it. Nobody gets to mess with my boyfriend.”

 

Buffy’s use of that particular term distracted Spike enough so that he was soon at the bottom of a demon pile again, letting out a howl as one of them tore through his jeans, scoring his leg. His cry had Buffy moving just a little faster. With a graceful roundhouse kick, she sent one of the demons flying. She grabbed another by the belt/sash thing that was around its chest, and hauled it off.

 

The third demon she grabbed by its arm in mid-swipe, just before it clawed Spike again. With a brief twist, she heard the bone break, and then she managed to break its neck. Apparently, neck breaking worked with these things just as well as it usually did.

 

The other two demons were coming after her now, deciding she was the bigger threat. This was the kind of thing that Buffy loved—the fight, the adrenalin, the confidence that came from knowing she was going to win. Even when nothing else in her life was going right, she could always count on slaying to make her feel better.

 

Vaulting off the back of one demon, she crashed into the second, using her momentum to take it to the ground. She snapped that one’s neck as well, turning just in time to see Spike doing the same to the third. They looked at each other, and then at the demons. “Okay,” Buffy said slowly when the bodies just sat there. “You know, after the other night, I don’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed that they’re not doing the dissolve-y thing.”

 

“After the Miroks?” Spike asked. “Definitely relieved. Better get them out from the open though.”

 

Buffy looked around the park where they’d been attacked and nodded. “You’re probably right. Let’s get this done. I really didn’t want to spend my whole night out here.”

 

“You got plans, luv?” Spike asked, grabbing one of the demons by its bony arm.

 

She gave him a coy look. “Well, there’s this guy. I thought I might ask him to hang out with me tonight. Especially since my little sister is spending the night with my friends.”

 

“You know where this is going don’t you?” Spike asked, correctly guessing that he was the guy in question.

 

Buffy smiled. “I had a few ideas.” They dragged the bodies to a more wooded area, hiding them as best as they could under some brush. “You still thinking I’m the target?” she asked when they’d finished. “Because it definitely looked like they wanted you.”

 

Spike shrugged. “Yeah, seems that way, doesn’t it?” He shook his head. “Don’t have any idea what they were. Hopefully, your Watcher’ll have more information. We can figure out what the bloody hell is going on. I’d like a have a nice, quiet evening.”

 

“In your dreams,” Buffy replied.

 

He leered at her a bit. “Well, I’d like to be making my own noise at least.” Spike stared at her. “Buffy? What—” He tried to duck as her fist came out of nowhere to hit him in the nose. Her eyes were glowing red. “Buffy! Wait!” He tried to protect himself from the blows in vain, knowing there wasn’t anything he could do to stop her.

 

He just had to hope that whatever was possessing her wouldn’t force her to stake him before he had a chance to get away.


	6. The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test

Buffy stared at Spike. One minute he’d been teasing her about the possible activities for later in the evening, and the next he’d been cowering on the ground, pleading with her to stop. The problem was that she wasn’t even touching him. “Spike? Spike, it’s okay. See, I’m not touching you.”

 

Something seemed to snap, and he scrambled to his feet and started to run. She hesitated for only a moment before giving chase, easily catching up to him and tackling him to the ground. Buffy pinned him, holding the squirming vampire as tightly as possible. “Spike! Spike, snap out of it!”

 

He was muttering incoherently, telling her to stop, that she was possessed. If anything, he was the one possessed, but he didn’t seem to be coming out of it. Buffy didn’t dare shift her position to try and comfort him. As crazy as he was acting, she didn’t want to risk him running. Who knew if he would know enough to get out from the sun, or to make it back to his house? She sat on his chest, trying to figure out what the hell she was going to do when he seemed to finally focus on her face. “Slayer?” he whispered.

 

“Spike,” she said, relieved. “Are you okay?”

 

He was staring at her. “You—I thought you were going to stake me.”

 

“No,” she said carefully. “We were moving demon bodies and making plans for later tonight, and then you started—” Buffy stopped. “Cowering” was probably not the word she wanted to use. “Acting crazy,” she finished.

 

She could see him swallow. “Your eyes were red. You were going to kill me.”

 

“Okay,” she said quietly. “I think something really strange is going on here. I’m going to let you up, and then I want you to come back to the house with me. You promise you’re okay for that?”

 

He nodded, and she slowly let him up. Spike rose, and Buffy could tell he was still regarding her warily, as if she might attack any minute. “I’m not going to hurt you, Spike,” she said, a little frustrated. “Come on.” She grabbed his arm, firmly but gently, and pulled him along towards her house. “We’ll get back and I’ll give Giles a call. Maybe those demons did something to you. I got infected with demon blood that one time, and I could hear everybody’s thoughts.”

 

Spike didn’t reply. He looked tense, and Buffy said quietly. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Keep seeing things, like out of the corner of my eye. We’re being followed.”

 

Buffy looked around. The night was remarkably quiet, and she was certain that they were the only ones out and about for a couple blocks at least. “I think we’re alone, Spike.”

 

He shook his head stubbornly. “They’re following us. They’re always there.”

 

“Who’s always there?” Buffy asked, deciding to humor the crazy vampire.

 

“They are,” he said, not really explaining. “They’re waiting for me to mess up. So they can hurt me. I need to be punished. I’m a bad man.”

 

Buffy was beginning to get scared. For a minute there, Spike had been lucid, but he was rapidly slipping away from her. “Not really,” Buffy said, striving for levity. “You haven’t been bad for a while now, Spike.”

 

He shook his head. “I’m wrong, all wrong. They’ll punish me now.”

 

“No one’s going to touch you,” Buffy replied as he tried to pull away from her. “Look at me.” She waited for him to meet her eyes. “We’re going to go back to my place, and then we’re going to figure this out. Just hang in there.”

 

Spike nodded. Buffy just hoped that her determination to get him through this in one piece was enough.

 

~~~~~

 

Giles came immediately when she called him, bringing a stack of books and his worried face. “I think I’ve narrowed down what kind of demon attacked you. Your description of the demons and Spike’s symptoms helped.” He looked around the living room. “Where is Spike?”

 

“Downstairs, in the basement,” Buffy explained. “He started to vamp out when we got back to the house. I think he was barely keeping himself from attacking me, so I chained him up.”

 

“Probably a wise idea,” Giles agreed. “A vampire’s hallucinations could be quite dangerous, both to those around him and to himself.” Giles had no idea why he was concerned about Spike, but he was. He told himself it was only out of sympathy for Buffy and Dawn, both of whom would be quite distressed should anything happen to the vampire. “Where is Dawn?”

 

Buffy picked up one of the books, flipping through it quickly. “Still with Willow and Tara. She had planned on spending the night anyway, but I told them to go ahead and keep her over there since Tara doesn’t have to work. She said she’d make sure Dawn was okay and call sometime tomorrow.”

 

“We will figure this out,” Giles said comfortingly.

 

Buffy shook her head. “Look, Giles, I know you guys aren’t terribly thrilled that I’m spending so much time with Spike, but I really appreciate your help.”

 

“I worry about you, Buffy,” her Watcher admitted. “I hardly think that getting involved with another vampire is a good idea.”

 

Buffy sighed. “I tried being with a normal guy, and look how well that turned out.” She stared at the pages of the book in front of her without really seeing anything. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m not normal, Giles. I won’t ever be normal. Just the way my life is right now makes it highly unlikely that I would find somebody who is willing to deal with my issues. And that’s without the slaying. Spike—Spike is different.”

 

Giles was silent, unsure of what to say, and Buffy continued. “I don’t know how much longer I have. I really believe that if Glory—actually, Ben—hadn’t been hit by that car, I wouldn’t have survived that one. I got lucky, and I don’t know how long my luck will last.”

 

“And you think Spike will make a difference?” he asked softly.

 

“No,” Buffy replied. “I think Spike will stick around.” There was suddenly a sound from the basement that sounded like a wounded animal. “I should check on him. I’ll be right back.”

 

Buffy ran downstairs into the basement, not wanting to wait for Giles’ reaction. It was true enough, though. Her shelf life had long been up; she’d already died once. Seeing Spike like this now was enough to tell her that her feelings for him ran a lot deeper than she’d thought.

 

Spike was straining against the chains she’d put on him, growling, almost completely feral. He was still fangy, and it didn’t look like he was going to calm down anytime soon. “Spike?”

 

The way he growled and tried to leap at her reminded her a little of Angel, after he’d come back from that hell dimension. Buffy wondered what he was seeing, what was causing him to go crazy. She took a step closer, trusting that he wouldn’t hurt her. “Spike. William. It’s me.”

 

The vampire became still, cocking his head to one side, his eyes glowing green-gold. She took another step forward, this time bringing herself close enough to touch him. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s sit down.” He was still watching her, his eyes glowing in the dim light from the overhead bulb. “Spike, sit.” Obediently, he did so, still not speaking, simply looking at her with those yellow eyes of his. To be honest, it was beginning to freak her out.

 

“Do you think you could sleep?” she asked, not expecting a response, and so not surprised when she didn’t get one. “Come on. Lay down.” She coaxed him into a prone position, so that he lay with his head on pillowed on her leg. As soon as his cheek hit the denim of her jeans, the demon’s visage melted away. “That’s right,” she murmured. “Tell me what you see.”

 

She wasn’t surprised when he didn’t say anything at all.

 

~~~~~

 

They were dead. Some part of Spike’s brain still knew that, but it couldn’t explain why they were standing right there, real enough to touch. He had killed them, hunted each one of them down and shoved a railroad spike through their heads. The Watchers said he got his name from torturing his victims, but that wasn’t true at all. It had been reasonably quick, really, much quicker than the hell they’d put him through for years.

 

He could barely remember their names, but their faces were burned on his memory. They taunted him now, snatching away his journal and reading his poetry aloud, snickering, making fun where he could hear. Tormenting him. He’d brought forth the demon, thinking to teach them a lesson, to repeat the past, but he found himself restrained.

 

Then they had turned into demons themselves, like the monsters he’d been sure were under his bed when he was six. He’d always been afraid of the monsters—until he was one. They had come to kill him, to rip him to shreds. Their eyes glowed green, and their claws dripped poison, and he couldn’t get away—

 

And she came. Glowing. Brightly effulgent. With her every step the monsters drifted away like wisps of smoke. She spoke softly and touched his face—his demon’s face—without fear, and he loved her. No, that wasn’t right. He’d been in love with her for a long time now. She was his bright goddess, and he would lay down his life for her in one shining moment of sacrifice.

 

He had to tell her. But that poem had been written for another. It was improper to offer it up to another lady. William would never—but he wasn’t William. He was—he couldn’t quite remember who he was. But he suddenly remembered what he was.

 

He was hers—whether she wanted him or not.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy could feel Spike relax under her fingers, as she murmured nonsense words of comfort. This she could do. She liked being the strong one, the one in control, and Spike allowed her that. It was strange, because as arrogant and cocky as he could be, he knew when to let her lead, when to allow her to own her own strength. And then he was simply there when she needed to borrow his in return.

 

Spike wasn’t like Riley in that way, though they weren’t really alike in _any_ way. Riley hadn’t fallen in love with her strength, with her Slayerness, as Spike had. Riley fell in love with a small, blonde girl, who then surprised him with her ability to not need him. She had loved him, in her own way, but Riley had equated love with need, and Buffy wasn’t built that way.

 

Spike equated love with passion, with an understanding of the other person that went so deep, it was beyond words. For Spike, love was sacrifice, an eternal giving, an all-consuming fire.

 

It was high time she stoked the blaze.

 

Buffy had no idea how long they were down there, but Giles hadn’t come to get her, so she supposed it wasn’t long enough to worry him. She thought Spike had fallen asleep; he was motionless, his eyes closed, head still pillowed on her thigh. There was a whisper of sound from the vampire. “What’s that, sweetheart?”

 

Blue eyes blinked open slowly. “It’s not right to give one girl’s poem to another.”

 

Buffy wasn’t sure what he was talking about, so she decided to agree. “No, I guess it wouldn’t be. Why?”

 

“I wanted to give you a poem, but I haven’t written any for a long time,” he replied. “William used to write poetry, but he died.”

 

Buffy had a hard time preventing her jaw from dropping. From what Spike had told her about his past, and about his mother, it was obvious that he wasn’t any kind of badass. But a poet? That was something else altogether, and Spike hadn’t let anything like that slip. “Was he any good?”

 

“Bloody awful,” Spike confessed, on behalf of his dead self. “That’s when they started calling him William the Bloody. Then he died, and he really was.” He tried to reach up and touch her hair, but the chains wouldn’t let him reach that far. “It’s like sunshine,” he whispered sadly. “I can’t touch it.”

 

“Just as soon as we figure out what happened, and you’re safe, you can,” she assured him. “Are you going to be okay by yourself for a while? I need to go talk to Giles.”

 

He shuddered slightly. “You chased the monsters away.”

 

Buffy tried not to laugh. “You’re a monster yourself. I’d think you’d be able to chase them away on your own.”

 

“They’re not scared of me.”

 

“Oh.” Buffy tried another tack. “Well, this is my house, and monsters aren’t allowed in here at all. Except for you. So if they come back, you just let me know, okay?”

 

He nodded. Buffy slid out from under him and went to find a pillow and a blanket from the boxes that were laying around. She tucked him in as best she could while he was on the hard basement floor. “Shall I write you a poem?” he asked, as she walked up the stairs.

 

Buffy hid a smile. If they fixed this after Spike wrote a poem for her, he was probably going to be pissed off. On the other hand, she would love to see what he’d write for her. “Yes, please.”

 

Buffy found Giles still going through books. “Hey. Found anything yet?”

 

He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I think I have. Is this what attacked you?”

 

She looked at the picture. “Those are the guys all right. Do you know what they did to Spike?”

 

“I’m afraid that the Effrendiks have a natural substance they secrete from their claws,” her Watcher explained. “Vampires are allergic.”

 

Buffy stared at him. “Spike was allergic to the demons, and that’s why he’s going nuts on me?”

 

Clearing his throat, Giles nodded. “Basically, yes. The good news is that there is a cure. The bad news is that the cure happens to be time. Judging from what you told me about his injuries, I imagine the toxins will take at least a couple days to disperse. Until then, well…”

 

Buffy sighed. “Great. I guess I’ll be vamp-sitting then.”

 

“If you need help, I would be happy to offer my services,” Giles said. Then amending his statement, added, “Well, ‘happy’ might be too strong a word.”

 

“Thanks, Giles,” Buffy replied. “I don’t have to work tomorrow, thankfully, so I think I’ll be okay. If it lasts too much longer than that, we’ll have to work something out. So far, he’s been a little calmer with me around, so I should probably stick close.”

 

Giles put a hand on her shoulder, startling her. They rarely touched, even though the mutual affection—and love—between them ran deep. “Buffy, I won’t tell you that I approve of you embarking on another relationship with a vampire, but I’ve been thinking about what you said, and you’re quite right. A traditional relationship is hardly an option for you. As far as vampires go, Spike isn’t so bad. He’s not what I would want for you, but I can live with him.”

 

Buffy smiled. “Thanks, Giles. Xander’s going to be enough of a problem as it is. I’m glad I don’t have to worry about you attacking me too.”

 

“I wouldn’t attack you, Buffy,” Giles replied, sounding almost offended. “I might voice a protest. Loudly.” He smiled. “I want you to be happy, and if Spike can do that for you, then I will try not to stake him.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike was talking to thin air when she went back down to the basement. Even when she tried to get his attention, he ignored her, preferring his invisible companion. Or maybe he was talking to himself. In any case, at least he was reasonably quiet, talking about hall passes and stamps and the possibility of getting caned. Buffy sighed. She wanted to go upstairs to her own bed, but she didn’t want to leave Spike alone.

 

She drew closer, and when he still didn’t acknowledge her presence, she captured his face between her hands. “Spike.” Waiting patiently for him to focus, she finally asked, “Do you think you’d be okay to sleep in a bed? I’ll be there the whole time, but I’d need you to just lie quietly. Can you do that for me?”

 

“I can do anything for you,” he replied fervently. Again, he tried to touch her hair, and this time she was close enough so that the chains didn’t interfere. “I’d walk in the sun for you.”

 

She smiled. “I know you would, but I would really rather you not, if that’s okay.” Buffy pulled the key out of her pocket and unlocked the manacles around his wrists, wincing as she realized he’d already torn the tender skin. “Damn. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. Turn about’s fair play, I guess.”

 

Spike followed her upstairs obediently, almost docile. After Giles had left, Buffy had taken a look at the relevant passages dealing with Spike’s allergic reaction. Apparently, the whatever-it-was on the Eff—well, effing demons, as far as Buffy was concerned—caused hallucinations, not unlike those experienced by humans on a really bad acid trip.

 

Visions, flash backs, smelling colors, the whole nine yards; Spike would be facing all of that over the next 48 to 72 hours. Buffy couldn’t help but wonder what her reaction would have been if this hadn’t been just an allergic reaction. What would she do if Spike were seriously impaired? She knew from experience how hard it was to cause permanent damage to a vampire. She also knew that it could be done. What would she do if something really bad happened to him? Something permanent?

 

It was as she had suspected. She would be lost without him.

 

“Okay, why don’t you sit down, and I’ll get something to clean up those scratches?” Buffy steered him over to the bed and got him settled down. “Just sit tight.”

 

She went to the bathroom and rummaged around for first aid supplies. Buffy huffed. She really should take out stock in bandages and other first aid accoutrements. As much as she and her friends used, she’d be a rich woman by now.

 

There was a commotion from her room, and Buffy hurriedly gathered her stuff. Spike was crouched in the corner, holding his head with both hands, rocking back and forth. Startled, Buffy realized that she’d seen him in this position before, after she’d pulled him off the wall of his crypt. He had been trying not to go crazy then, too, she supposed, but she’d had less sympathy for him at the time.

 

Strange how quickly things could change.

 

Buffy took her supplies to Spike. “Hey. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Spike didn’t show any signs of responding, just kept rocking. “Spike, I need you to keep talking to me. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on. Please?”

 

“They’re coming for me,” he whispered.

 

“Who’s coming for you, Spike?” He shook his head. “Who’s coming?” she repeated.

 

He rocked harder. “The prefects. I don’t have a pass. They’re going to hurt me. They always hurt me.”

 

They were apparently into the flashback part of the evening, Buffy thought. “Spike, it isn’t real. You’re having a reaction to some of the demon venom. I’m right here.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not going anywhere.” Buffy wanted to add “ever” to the end of that sentence, but she wasn’t quite ready for that yet. Besides, Spike was in no position to enjoy a declaration of abiding affection (love).

 

Because she didn’t yet have the words to say it, Buffy used actions, as she always had. She stayed with the vampire all night, leaving his side only once, when he had fallen into a restless sleep, in order to get him some blood. She coaxed him into drinking the mug down, relieved when he managed it. She stayed with him, just sitting close, while he spoke in riddles, talking about punishments and failures.

 

Buffy held him as he wept uncontrollably, mumbling about a girl named Cecily. Unwilling to put the chains back on, she held him down when he raged in full-on blood lust, held him even when it seemed he had no qualms about draining her dry. He had finally fallen back asleep when the phone rang, shortly before noon.

 

“Hello?” she said, knowing she sounded like she’d had a rough night. Big surprise, under the circumstances.

 

“Buffy? It’s Tara,” the other woman replied. “How’s Spike?”

 

She sighed. “Still pretty bad. Giles warned me it would take a couple days to get it out of his system, and apparently, he could still have flashbacks after that. Is Dawn doing okay?”

 

“Dawn’s fine,” Tara assured her. “Actually, Willow decided to take the day off, so she’s going to take Dawn out with her, kind of as a distraction. She wants to see Spike, but from what you said yesterday, that wouldn’t be such a good idea.”

 

Buffy chuckled humorlessly. “Definitely not a good idea. And probably not for the next day or so. I need to go back to work tomorrow though, and I don’t know who else could sit with him. I hate to put the restraints back on, but no one else is actually strong enough to handle him.”

 

“I might have something that would help,” Tara offered hesitantly. “I mean, I don’t know for sure, but there’s a tea I know of—it’s calming. And herbs that if he breathed in—he’s a vampire, so I don’t know if it would work, but—”

 

“It’s definitely worth a try,” Buffy agreed. “Do you—would you want to come over? I could come and get them, but—”

 

“You don’t want to leave him,” Tara said, sounding perfectly understanding. “No, that’s fine. I’ll be there as soon as I can get the ingredients together.”

 

Buffy didn’t have a long wait. Tara was as good as her word, and was there within the hour. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this last night,” she said ruefully, as she fixed the tea on the stovetop while Buffy watched. Spike was still sleeping upstairs, the vampire sleep cycle finally kicking in.

 

“It’s okay,” Buffy assured her. “It was late, and I know I wasn’t at my best.” She paused. “Look, Tara, thanks for doing this. I really appreciate it.”

 

The other girl smiled at her. “I don’t mind, Buffy, really. I actually kind of like Spike. He’s nice—in a weird kind of way.”

 

“Yeah, I guess he is.”

 

Tara hesitated, then said, “I know it’s probably not my business, but do you—like him?”

 

“Like him?” Buffy asked. “Yeah, definitely. Do I love him? I don’t know yet. But seeing him hurt like this, half out of his mind—suddenly I can’t imagine my life without him.”

 

Tara nodded. “I felt the same way about Willow,” she confided. “When Oz came back, and I thought she w-was going to be with him again. I didn’t know how I could be without her. Willow—Willow makes me stronger.”

 

Buffy nodded slowly. “I can see what you’re saying.” She heard a rustling from upstairs, and she was halfway back to her bedroom before she realized she’d moved at all. “Spike?”

 

“Buffy?” It had been hours since he’d even known who she was, and she couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief.

 

“I’m right here,” she assured him, coming closer to the corner where he was still crouched. “How are you feeling?”

 

He shook his head. “Not good. I think I’m seeing things. Dru was here a minute ago, but then she left. And I think Angelus was here too. We were—we ate somebody. And now—” he held up a hand, looking slightly bewildered. “I think I’m smelling colors, but that’s not quite right.”

 

“You had an allergic reaction,” she said, trying to be as comforting as possible, amused by his puzzled look. “It’s okay. It’ll pass after a couple days, and Tara has some tea she thinks might calm you down a little.”

 

“I feel pretty calm right now,” he protested.

 

Buffy smiled. “I know, but after seeing you vamp out a couple times, I’m thinking calm is a good thing.”

 

“Didn’t hurt you, did I?” Spike asked, horrified.

 

She raised an eyebrow. “Hello? Slayer here. I think I can take care of myself.” Buffy turned to look at Tara, who was coming into the room with a cup of tea in her hand.

 

“Hey, Spike,” she said, greeting him gently. “How are you feeling?”

 

“People keep asking me that,” he said. “Feel a bit off.”

 

Tara came to kneel next to him and Buffy, handing him the cup of tea. “Drink this. It should help you feel better.”

 

Spike’s eyes bored into Tara. “Alright,” he finally acquiesced, almost abruptly. He drank it down quickly, and it wasn’t but a few minutes later that his eyes began to droop. “That was okay,” he mumbled, starting to slur his words.

 

Buffy looked over at Tara with a raised eyebrow. “That was quick.”

 

“I made it pretty strong,” she replied, almost apologetically.

 

She nodded. “Probably best for him to be out. He’s been pretty wiggy all night.” Reaching down, she hauled Spike to his feet and helped him over to the bed, ignoring his mumbled protests about not kicking her out of her own room. “I’ll deal,” she said fondly. “But you need to sleep, and the window up here is already covered.”

 

Buffy used the opportunity to finally bandage his wrists and clean him up a little bit, tugging off his boots and tucking him in properly. She placed a gentle kiss on his lips, and then left the room to join Tara in the kitchen. Tara was busy filling Joyce’s sun tea jar with the potion off the stove.

 

“There should be enough here for the next couple days,” Tara explained. “I’d give him a cup every few hours, or any time he seems to be getting a little agitated.”

 

“Will it knock him out every time?” Buffy asked.

 

The other girl shook her head. “I don’t think so. But he was pretty tired, so I think it just helped him to fall asleep.” Tara paused. “Buffy—we were talking yesterday, right after you guys left for patrol. You know that Spike has a soul, right?”

 

Buffy shook her head. “Angel said he didn’t. I mean, we know he was cursed with something, but—”

 

Tara shook her head. “No, it was definitely a soul of some kind. His aura is completely different. I don’t know what A-Angel told you, or why he said what he did, but Spike has changed on a fundamental level. He’s not the same person. Or-or he is, but just not really.”

 

Buffy looked down at the kitchen counter. “I’m not sure it matters,” she said softly. “I mean, if he’s got a soul, great. And you’re right, he’s definitely changed, it’s just—Spike changed. To say he has a soul now—it just seems like semantics, you know?”

 

“You mean it doesn’t matter why he changed, just that he did?” Tara asked gently.

 

Buffy nodded, and cast her eyes in the direction of the stairs. “Something like that.” She laughed. “With Angel, the soul was all-important. But with Spike—” She smiled slightly, a softness in her eyes. “With Spike, I just need him to be here.”


	7. Angels and Demons

Spike woke slowly, in unfamiliar surroundings. Not the crypt, not his new house—the light was all wrong for both. And the bed—he could smell Buffy, right next to him. “Buffy?”

 

“Right here,” she assured him. “I’m going to have to leave pretty quickly though. You going to be okay with Tara and Giles here?”

 

He nodded slowly, focusing on the Slayer with difficulty. “What—where am I, luv?”

 

“My bed,” Buffy said quietly. “You’ve been pretty much out of it for the last 12 hours. We’ve been waking you up to drink your tea, but that’s about it. You want some blood? I can get it for you before I have to leave.”

 

Spike shook his head. “You—you don’t have to do that,” he protested. “I can—” He tried to push himself up.

 

Buffy pushed him back down on the bed gently. “You can stay put,” she admonished him. “I’m going to get you some blood, and then you’re going to drink more of that tea. I think it’ll be better for everyone concerned if you’re mostly out of it.”

 

Spike shook his head, remembering flashes. “I tried to hurt you. Maybe you should put the chains back on.”

 

“Giles has the tranq gun if you get out of hand,” she assured him. “And Tara’s concoction seems to be working pretty well for right now. Just rest. I’ll be right back.”

 

Spike let himself collapse back onto the soft mattress, unsure of how to take this new Buffy. He didn’t think she’d ever been this tender with him before. She had been getting steadily nicer, but this was a whole new level. Being in her bed, her sitting with him all night—Spike started. Suddenly Drusilla was standing before him, pulling her dress aside, showing him bare breasts and the stake wound he had made.

 

“You’re not real,” he muttered. “You’re not real.”

 

“Real enough, my Spike,” she replied, throwing herself at him. Spike scrambled out of the bed, stumbling towards the door, and nearly running into Buffy.

 

She had a mug full of blood in one hand and a glass full of tea in the other. Only her Slayer reflexes kept her from dumping both all over Spike. “Hey! What’s wrong?”

 

“It’s Dru,” he gasped, looking back, but Drusilla had disappeared. He started shaking his head. “No, no. Buffy, I can’t do this. I’m not—”

 

Buffy scooted past him and set her offerings on the bedside table. “You’re doing fine, Spike. Really, you’re going to be okay. Another 24 hours or so, and it should be out of your system. I just need you to hang in there for me.”

 

“I can’t, Buffy. I can’t do this—”

 

“Yes, you can, Spike,” Buffy said, almost harshly. “I need you, and I am not losing you. Do you understand me?” When he finally nodded, Buffy handed him the blood. “Drink.” She watched until he finished, and then handed him the glass of tea. Spike didn’t fight her at all this time, swallowing convulsively without stopping until he’d drained it.

 

Buffy sat with him for a few minutes, knowing she needed to leave for work if she didn’t want to be late. “Better?”

 

The vampire nodded. “It’s still there, but—it’s not as important.”

 

“Good.” Buffy turned as she heard a noise behind her, and Tara appeared in the doorway. “You ready?”

 

Tara nodded. “Giles is downstairs. He’s got the tranq gun, so we should be okay.”

 

“You hear that, Spike?” Buffy asked. “You’ve got a couple of vamp-sitters today, so you should feel special.”

 

“Where’s the Nibblet?” he asked. “She’s not here, is she? She’s alright?”

 

“Dawn’s fine,” Buffy soothed. She cast an agonized look at the clock. “Spike, I have to go. Tara will stay with you, okay?” She kissed him quickly on the lips and waved to Tara as she dashed out the door.

 

The look on Spike’s face was so lost as Buffy left that Tara really felt for him. “Hey, she’ll be back, you know?”

 

Spike looked over at her, and then down at his hands. “I don’t want—I don’t want to be by myself,” he whispered, looking ashamed for his weakness.

 

“Okay,” Tara replied, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. He was so far from the “Big Bad” she’d first met that it was hard to believe he was the same person. “Do you want to go downstairs and watch a movie with me? That might take your mind off things.”

 

When he nodded, Tara stood, waiting until he followed her out the bedroom door and down the stairs. “Is everything all right?” Giles asked, looking up from the heavy volumes he was perusing.

 

“It’s fine,” she assured him. “I just thought it might help Spike to have something to take his mind off of things. We’re going to watch a movie.”

 

Giles lifted an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. He watched as Tara got Spike settled on the couch. The curtains were still closed, and the little indirect light that filtered through offered no threat to Spike. He curled up on the opposite end of the couch from Tara, and was watching rather avidly as images from _The Matrix_ flitted across the screen. Giles found himself intrigued with the movie in spite of himself, moving his research out into the living room where he could see the TV better.

 

Spike fell asleep again about halfway through, and Giles glanced over to see Tara looking at him fondly. “You really do like him, don’t you?” he asked, curious. As shy as Tara was, it was difficult to understand why she would be drawn to Spike, of all people.

 

Tara shrugged. “Yeah, I do.” She studied the sleeping vampire’s features in silence for a moment. “There’s more there than you might think,” she explained, finally.

 

“I suppose there is,” Giles agreed. “Tell me, what do you see when you look at him?”

 

Tara hesitated, and then said, “I see a man with a demon.”

 

Giles nodded slowly, understanding the distinction she had made. “For Buffy’s sake, I hope you’re right.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike was happily ensconced in the Slayer’s bed, surrounded by her scent, when she came to check on him. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

 

“Better,” he replied, sitting up. “Visions aren’t as bad, but that stuff Tara’s been giving me is still clouding my brain.”

 

Buffy smiled at him. “I think I have a way to unfog you.” She crawled onto the bed next to him, placing a light kiss on his lips. “Better?”

 

“Hard to say,” Spike replied. “Might want to try again.”

 

With a smile, she obliged, lengthening and deepening the kiss this time, until his hands were wandering under her shirt. Buffy was doing some exploring of her own, her hands moving under the waistband of his jeans, teasing sensitive skin with her warmth.

 

In fact, things were just getting really good when he heard someone calling to him. “Spike? Spike? Spike!”

 

He sat up, startled. Tara sat next to him on the couch, looking at him with a funny expression on her face. “Are you okay?”

 

Spike was not okay. He had just been woken up from one of the best dreams he’d ever had, right in the middle of the best part. Plus, his jeans were extremely uncomfortable.

 

Of course, it wasn’t like he was going to tell the witch anything like that. “I’m fine.”

 

At the shortness of his tone, Tara frowned. “Okay. It’s just you were moaning a little, and—” She broke off abruptly, recognizing the look on his face for what it was. “Oh. Good dream, huh?”

 

He sighed, and then smiled a little, sheepishly. “Yeah. Wasn’t a bad one.”

 

“I’m sorry I interrupted you then,” Tara said, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Must have been really good for you to be making that much noise.”

 

“I was making a lot of noise?” Spike asked, mortified. Then, realizing she was teasing him, he glared at her. “Not funny. Don’t scare a bloke like that.”

 

They both looked up as the phone rang and Giles picked it up in the kitchen. “Hello?” There was a pause. “No, I’m sorry she’s not right now…I see…I could give you her number at work if it’s an emergency.” The Watcher read off the numbers and then hung up the phone. “Tara?”

 

He stopped when he saw that Spike was awake. “Oh, good. You’re up. How are you feeling?”

 

As Giles actually sounded concerned about his well being, Spike dispensed with the smart ass comment he was inclined to make. “Bit better.”

 

The other man nodded. “Good. That was Angel. Apparently, something has come up and he wanted to talk to Buffy about it.”

 

Tara looked concerned. “No one’s hurt, are they?”

 

“No, I don’t believe so,” Giles replied. “He simply said he had some information, and that he wanted to talk to Buffy as soon as possible.”

 

Spike frowned. “And you gave Peaches her work number?” he asked. “Not sure that was a good idea. Dawn said they get pretty snotty with her when she calls, and she’s family.”

 

Giles sighed. “Well, it’s too late now, and Angel did say it was important.”

 

~~~~~

 

“Hey, Summers! You’ve got a phone call.”

 

Buffy sighed. She’d told Dawn not to call her at work unless the world was ending (literally), and she probably should have passed the message along to the rest of the gang. Marg, her boss, got a little angry when her employees got personal calls. “Make it quick,” Marg warned her as she picked it up.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Buffy?”

 

She recognized Angel’s voice right way, and she bit back an angry sigh. She so did not need this right now, considering that he had lied about Spike. Or, at least he’d made a judgment call about Spike that he had no business making. “Angel, we’re not supposed to get personal calls at work,” she whispered, looking around, trying to make sure no one was listening in. She would hate for it to get around that it was her boyfriend calling. Especially when he wasn’t even her boyfriend.

 

“I’m sorry, Buffy. I called your house and Giles gave me this number.” Buffy bit back a curse. She was really going to have to talk with her Watcher. “I need to speak with you. It’s about Spike.”

 

“Fine, but can you hold on at least until I get home? I’m getting death glares.” Buffy looked over at Marg, who looked pointedly at her watch. Buffy hated to think of what would happen to her job the first time she came across a Slaying-related emergency.

 

There was a pause. “Can I come up?” he asked. “I don’t think this is really something we should talk about over the phone.” There was another pause. “And I’d like to talk to Spike.”

 

Buffy didn’t have the time to argue with him. If she didn’t cut this call short, Marg would probably start cutting her hours, and she couldn’t afford for that to happen. “I’m off at eight. You can call then. Or whatever. But if you decide to show up at my front door, I’ll expect you to behave yourself, Angel. Okay? Okay. Gotta go, bye.”

 

Buffy hung up on him without waiting for any kind of acknowledgement, quickly getting back to work. Even as she took people’s orders and brought drinks, however, her mind was on what news Angel could possibly have about Spike. And what he would say when he realized that she and Spike weren’t just friends, but actually dating.

 

Well, Buffy thought they were dating. The boyfriend comment had just slipped out during the fight with the clawed demons that had made Spike go crazy for a while. Seeing him like that, comforting him during the worst of the madness, had solidified her feelings for him. She was definitely falling in love with him.

 

Of course, now that she knew that, she had to figure out a way to tell him. Maybe they could go out on an actual date when he was feeling better. Something that wasn’t killing demons. She refilled water glasses as she thought about what a perfect date might be for Spike. He’d given her exactly what she’d needed with the night out at the Bronze. She should do the same for him—figure out what his perfect date would be, and then pull it off.

 

Thinking about it, Buffy had a pretty good idea of what Spike’s perfect night out would include, and it probably wouldn’t be going “out” at all. The thought brought a flush to her cheeks, giving her a bit of a glow. “You look happy today, dear,” one of her regulars told her. “New man?”

 

She couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her features. “New relationship, old friend,” she explained.

 

“Well, they make the best partners, you know,” Mrs. Nowen told her. “I knew my husband for years before we got married, and we’re still best friends.”

 

“That’s wonderful,” Buffy said sincerely. The rest of her shift went better than she might have expected, as distracted as she was. All the orders were right, no one got upset with her, and the tips were better than they’d ever been.

 

Once she got off, she pocketed her money, heading home quickly. Buffy realized that Angel would probably drive to Sunnydale, since he’d mentioned it, and she hadn’t vetoed the plan. It probably wasn’t the best of ideas to let Angel near Spike, not when he was still struggling with the hallucinations. If it was about him, and it shed some light on their current situation, it was probably better to just get it over with, however.

 

Buffy came up the front walk at the same time as Willow and Dawn. “Hey,” she greeted them. “How was the day out?”

 

“How is he?” Dawn asked, not even bothering with the pleasantries.

 

Buffy gave her a look. “It’s nice to see you too.”

 

“Come on, Buffy,” Dawn said, sounding just a little pissy. “I haven’t seen him for, like, days. And he’s been sick!”

 

Buffy sighed. “He’s been really sick, and trust me, you wouldn’t have wanted to see it. But he’s doing better now, and yes, you can see him. He’s still here.”

 

Dawn gave her sister a quick hug to make up for her lack of greeting and dashed into the house. Buffy and Willow shared a look. “Are you sure Dawnie doesn’t still have a crush on Spike?”

 

Buffy rolled her eyes. “No, I think there are definite ‘favorite older brother’ vibes there. Dawn knows I’ve staked my claim.”

 

“So you have made progress,” Willow said, grinning. “Share!”

 

“Nothing to share,” Buffy replied. “I just came to the realization that I would be completely miserable without him.” She shuddered. “Willow, if you had seen him—Spike was completely off his rocker. Crying, screaming, the whole works, and all I could do was hold him. Even during that whole time, I knew he loved me.”

 

Willow gave her a sympathetic look. “Have you talked to Giles about it, yet?”

 

“Yeah, and he’s pretty much okay with it. He gave me the ‘I don’t like it, but if Spike makes you happy, I won’t kill him’ speech. Now the only person I have to worry about is Xander.” Buffy rolled her eyes. “But I swear, if I hear ‘evil undead’ or ‘Angel’ come out of his mouth, I will so kick his ass.”

 

Willow nodded. “Xander can be a pain. Anya’s completely on board though, so she can try and keep him curbed.”

 

“I never thought I’d say this,” Buffy admitted, “but I’m so glad Xander’s with her. She’s one of the few people I know who doesn’t care a bit that Spike’s a vampire.”

 

“Well, she is a lot older than he is,” Willow pointed out. “She’s probably seen things—er, people, who are a lot scarier.”

 

Buffy grinned. “Yeah, but don’t tell Spike that.” The smile faded. “Speaking of scary, I think Angel’s on his way. Apparently, he has some information about Spike that he didn’t want to give me over the phone. I may need help keeping the two of them away from each other. Spike’s still a little unstable, and who knows what his reaction will be if Angel just shows up.”

 

They both stopped, picturing it for a moment. “That could be interesting,” Willow admitted. She followed Buffy inside, smiling at Tara and going over to give her a kiss. “Hey. Good day?”

 

Tara smiled. “Good day.” She looked over at Buffy. “Spike’s upstairs. Dawn just went up to check on him.”

 

“How’s he been?” Buffy asked.

 

“Good, mostly. I thought he was having an episode earlier, but it was just a dream.” Tara smiled, more than a little amused. “I think I woke him up in a good part.”

 

Buffy blinked as she realized what the other girl was probably referring to. “Oh.” A knowing little smile appeared on her face. “Cool.”

 

Tara and Willow exchanged looks, and Willow grinned. “Maybe you should go say hello,” she suggested. “Show him what he was missing out on today.”

 

Buffy wanted to, but she shook her head. “No, I can’t. Ugh. Angel’s probably going to be here any minute, and I should really talk to Giles.”

 

“Talk to me about what?” Giles asked, emerging from the dining room. “Is this about Angel’s call earlier today?”

 

Buffy nodded. “He said he was coming up. And Giles? Would you please not give out my work number? My boss gets really pissy when we take personal calls. Unless it’s the end of the world, it would be better to wait until I get home.”

 

Giles winced. “Forgive me, Buffy. I had no intention of getting you into trouble.”

 

“I know. It’s fine.” She looked up the stairs. “Would you keep an eye out for Angel? I want to go check on Spike.”

 

“Of course,” Giles replied.

 

Buffy didn’t even stick around to hear it. She hurried up the stairs towards her bedroom to find Dawn standing in the doorway, looking at Spike, who lay sleeping on the bed. “Is he really okay?” her sister whispered. “I mean, he’s not even moving.”

 

“I’m fine, Bit,” Spike replied, cracking one eye open to look at her. “Just waiting to see how long it would take before you said something.”

 

Dawn made a face. “Spike!”

 

“Sorry,” he said, not really sounding as though he meant it. Spike sat up slowly in bed, looking past Dawn to Buffy, who had a knowing smile on her face. “How was work, pet?”

 

“Good,” she replied. “Other than the phone call from Angel, it went fine. Plus, good tips.” She raised an eyebrow. “I hear you had a nice dream today.”

 

Both of them ignored the bewildered look on Dawn’s face. Spike looked both angry and embarrassed. “I was hoping Glinda wouldn’t tell you.”

 

“What, like I was going to be upset about it?” Buffy asked. She grinned at him. “It just gives you something to look forward to after all this clears up. See how much better the reality is.”

 

Spike gave her a hopeful look. “Yeah? You’re not just pulling my chain, are you, luv?”

 

“No chain pulling,” she assured him. Buffy gave him a once-over. He was looking rather rumpled, and he was still in the same clothing he’d been in the previous night, ripped and bloody as it was. “Why don’t you take a shower and get cleaned up?” she suggested.

 

“Don’t have any clothes here, pet,” Spike said regretfully. “I should probably get back to my place anyway.”

 

Dawn smiled at him triumphantly. “Nope. Willow and I stopped by your house on the way here. She wanted to finish putting the wards up, and Tara called and said you might be needing some clean stuff.” She held up a sack.

 

“And you’re not going anywhere,” Buffy finished. “You might be feeling better, but that just means the worst of it is over. I’m not letting you out of my sight until I know that poison is out of your system.”

 

Spike looked from one Summers to the other, finally sighing in defeat. “Right then. I can see I’m not going to win this argument.” He pushed himself off the bed, standing with some difficulty. He was still feeling a little weak, and he wasn’t sure if it was a result of the allergic reaction or something else.

 

“Come on,” Buffy ordered. “I’ll get you a towel, and you can get cleaned up.” She followed him into the bathroom, ostensibly to show him how to work the taps. “Spike,” she said in a low voice. “I think Angel might be coming up from L.A. tonight. He said he wanted to talk to the both of us. You think you’re up for that?”

 

“Do I have a choice?” Spike asked, almost bitterly.

 

She touched his hand, gently. “Actually, you do. If you don’t want to see him, that’s fine. I’ll make sure he stays away from you.” At the look on his face, Buffy said, very quietly, “There is nothing that he could say that can change the way I feel about you.”

 

Spike stared at her, startled into meeting the Slayer’s eyes. “Buffy—”

 

“I care about you, and nothing will change that, okay?” she said. “Plus, we’re dating, and nobody gets to mess with my boyfriend.”

 

His face softened, looking almost boyish. “You mean that, luv? Really?”

 

“Absolutely.” Buffy reached up and pulled his head down for a quick kiss. “But you really need to shower now.” She gave him a smile that was full of mischief. “Next time, we’ll talk about me joining you.”

 

~~~~~

 

Angel glanced from his watch to the closed door nervously. It was after nine, so Buffy should be home by now, but it wasn’t as though she’d actually given him an invitation. Angel wasn’t willing to wait, however, and so he’d had Wesley do the driving while he’d crouched under a blanket. Not the most comfortable way to travel, but he’d had worse trips.

 

Next to him, Wesley rolled his eyes, reaching past the vampire to knock on the door. “Honestly, Angel. If you were that worried about coming up, you could have just called again and made certain that it would be okay.”

 

“This is important,” Angel said. “I wanted to talk to her, see how she’s doing. And—” He sighed, thinking of the other part of his mission. “I also want to talk to Spike. If it’s true, then he might, you know, appreciate someone who understands.”

 

Wesley raised a skeptical eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. The door swung open to reveal Buffy. “Hey, guys.” Buffy greeted them with an amused smile. “I figured you’d be here.” She glanced over at her former Watcher. “Angel make you drive him?”

 

He shrugged. “It was still daylight. And, if our suspicions are correct, it’s probably wise that I’m here.”

 

Buffy stepped aside to let both of them enter. “Okay, now I’m a little nervous. What’s wrong, Angel? And why couldn’t you just have told Giles over the phone?”

 

“I think I might have been wrong about Spike,” Angel blurted out.

 

Buffy gave him her sternest look, which had melted far stronger men. “Duh. That’s what you had to tell me?”

 

“It’s more complex than that,” Wesley said, putting a hand on Angel’s arm and stepping closer to Buffy. “If Angel was wrong, and this warlock did give Spike his soul, it’s possible that he might still be linked to him somehow.”

 

The Slayer’s face hardened. “Crap. We’ve been having some weird things happen. A few days ago, we were attacked by Mirok demons, and then last night it was Effren—Effren—something.”

 

Wesley recognized the name immediately. “Effrendiks? Was Spike harmed?”

 

“He got infected. He’s doing better tonight, but let’s just say last night wasn’t a picnic.”

 

Wesley nodded. “I see. You’re lucky he didn’t harm himself, or you. I’ve heard of stories about vampires’ hallucinations while under the influence of Effrendik venom. They aren’t pleasant.”

 

“No kidding,” Buffy said, sparing an almost warm smile for the man. Wesley seemed to have lightened up quite a bit in the intervening years. He looked almost—hip, at this point. “Spike’s in the kitchen, if you want to talk to both of us at once.” She paused. “And Angel? You will behave yourself. Spike’s still not 100%.”

 

~~~~~

 

The shower had helped clear his head a bit, Spike had to admit, and the clean clothes were a relief. But he really had no desire to fog his senses again. Even though images and smells that he knew weren’t real kept popping up out of nowhere, he was doing his best to ignore them and concentrate on what Dawn was saying.

 

“So anyway, we went to the mall, and I saw Kirstie. You should have seen her hair. I don’t know why she thought a perm would be a good idea, but it so wasn’t.” The teen hadn’t really stopped for a breath yet. “And then I saw Laura, the sneak! She said they were going on vacation, and they were going to be out of town the entire summer, but I know she was lying to me. I mean, there she was, right there. I wanted to go over there and call her a lying be-yotch to her face.” Dawn finally paused. “Spike? You okay?”  


He’d been getting a far away look on his face that told Dawn he wasn’t completely with her. At her question, Spike shook himself out of his daze. “Yeah, sure, Nibblet. I’m alright.”

 

“Spike,” Tara looked over at him from her place by the fridge. She’d come into the kitchen to get something to drink for her and Willow, and knew that Spike wasn’t really telling the truth. “You should drink some of that tea again. It’s been over six hours now.”

 

Spike shook his head stubbornly. “Want to be on top of things for when Peaches comes. That stuff makes me lose my focus.”

 

Tara sighed. “And the hallucinations? I don’t think those are going to make you any sharper.” She looked over at her girlfriend, who had come in to see if she could help. “Would you tell him?”

 

Willow shrugged, and then looked at Spike sternly. “You really want to make Buffy sit on your chest again?”

 

Spike growled a “fine,” and Tara smiled, handing him the glass she’d already filled. “Just think, Spike,” Willow said in an encouraging voice. “Another day or two, and this will all be a memory.”

 

“A really bad memory,” Spike grumbled, though his face cleared a little bit when he remembered Buffy’s solicitousness. He drank down the tea, making a face. “You know, that stuff’s not so bad, but I’ll be happy to never drink another glass again.”

 

“Could I try it?” Dawn asked, curious.  


“No!” Both Spike and Tara spoke at the same time. Tara finished the sentiment, “It’s very strong, Dawn. In order for it to affect Spike, I had to make it extra potent. If you drank it, you’d probably be out for hours, if not days.”

 

“Oh,” Dawn looked a little disappointed. “So it wouldn’t make me happy or anything?”

 

The adults in the room—including Spike—exchanged looks. By silent assent, Tara and Willow left the room, leaving Spike to deal with Dawn’s question. “Dawn, luv, why do you ask?”

 

“It’s just—you know, it might be kind of nice to be happy for a while. Really happy.” Dawn looked uncomfortable.

 

Spike sighed. “Little Bit, something like that’s not gonna help you, and this definitely won’t. You remember what happened when Willow tried to short circuit the being sad thing with the ‘my will be done’ spell? I won’t complain about it now, but it coulda ended up a lot worse.”

 

“I know that, Spike. It’s just—it hurts so bad sometimes,” Dawn said.

 

Spike gave her a sympathetic smile, and reached across the counter to smooth her hair back from her face. “I know, luv. But you can’t dull that kind of pain with anything. I know, because I’ve tried.”

 

Neither one of them had a chance to say anything more, since just then Buffy walked into the kitchen, followed closely by Angel and Wesley. “You doing okay, Spike?”

 

“Yeah, just fine,” he said, sounding more than a little grumpy. Spike wasn’t at all happy to see his grandsire. He looked over at Angel. “So what’s so important that you had to come to Sunnyhell, huh? Want to beat on me again?”

 

Angel curbed his annoyance with some trouble. “I needed to talk to you and Buffy,” he replied. “It seems I might have been mistaken about you not having a soul. And Wes here seems to think that the warlock could be using it to keep track of you.”

 

“What does that mean?” Spike asked, looking over at Buffy.

 

Wesley spoke up. “That means that if the warlock’s goal was revenge, he could be keeping track of your whereabouts and emotional state through the curse. It puts you—all of you—in danger.”


	8. Chipless

Lyndon was not happy with the way things were going. The Effrendik venom had worked just as he’d hoped on the vampire, and for twelve glorious hours Spike had been howling mad. Then the Slayer had to step in and comfort the beast. He might have been able to live with her interference if someone hadn’t come up with a way to mitigate the effects of the poison.

 

Lyndon cursed softly. This simply wouldn’t do. He knew that the Slayer was allied with at least one witch, possibly two. He had felt the wards go up on the Slayer’s house, as well as that new house Spike had found. There had been other surges of power too, which Lyndon believed to be the other places of residence for the Slayer’s friends.

 

This simply wasn’t going to work, he decided. Attacking the vampire and the Slayer was all very well and good. It was at least amusing, but it wasn’t good enough. He needed to get her friends out of the way, particularly the witches. He’d felt some real power there. His eyes narrowed. Now, he just had to decide how he was going to do it.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike and Buffy were looked at Wesley incredulously. “Keeping track of Spike through the curse?” Buffy asked.

 

Spike’s eyes narrowed. “Wait just a bleeding second. You’re telling me you were full of shit when you said I didn’t have a soul?” He was looking straight at Angel when he said it, and Angel looked away.

 

The others had joined them in the kitchen by now, and they all seemed a little surprised, though not at the fact that Spike had a soul. “You didn’t know?” Giles asked.

 

Spike looked from one person to the next. “Didn’t know what?”

 

“That you have a soul,” Willow said. “Nobody told you?”

 

Spike frowned. “I thought—”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Buffy said firmly, interrupting him. “It doesn’t matter if Spike has a soul. It doesn’t make a difference.”

 

Wesley cleared his throat. “I’m afraid you might be mistaken, Buffy. If this warlock was able to give Spike a soul, he may still be connected to him. I might be able to break the connection, but we have to know for sure.”

 

Buffy moved to stand next to Spike. “I don’t see why we have to know if Spike has a soul or not. It doesn’t matter.”

 

“Buffy, Slayer, it’s alright,” Spike said softly, putting a hand on her arm. He was feeling a little fuzzy from the tea Tara had made him drink. One thing he did understand, however, was that _he_ needed to know. He needed to be sure of what he was now, what that warlock had done to him. If Watcher Jr. knew how to find out, he was willing to take the risk.

 

She looked at him. “Spike, it doesn’t matter to me.”

 

“I know,” he replied softly. “And that means more to me than you know. But I have to figure this out for myself, pet.”

 

Buffy bit her lip, but finally nodded. “So, what’s involved here?”

 

The ingredients were fairly simple, and while Wesley hadn’t brought them along, it was an easy matter to have Giles call Anya and ask her to bring the needed supplies. Meanwhile, Buffy pulled Spike with her out to the back porch. He lit up a cigarette immediately, not having had one since the previous evening. “You were just dying for one of those, weren’t you?” she asked, amused.

 

“Something like that,” he admitted. “Not dying since I’m already dead.”

 

Buffy rolled her eyes, looking behind her as Angel slipped out the back door. “I wanted to talk to both of you,” he said.

 

“You want to tell me why you said what you did the last time you were here?” Buffy demanded. “It’s not like it matters now, but it certainly looks like you were overreacting.”

 

“I—” Angel stopped, and then looked Spike in the eye. “I owe you an apology. I said what I did because I couldn’t believe that you actually had a soul. After—After we got back from Pylea, I started thinking about it, and I realized that I was probably wrong. If I was, I could be putting both you and Buffy in danger.”

 

Spike nodded, knowing that the real reason Angel had admitted his mistake wasn’t out of some sense of responsibility for Spike, but out of feeling for Buffy. He could live with that. “Thanks for caring, Peaches,” he said.

 

Angel looked as though he were going to retort, but seemed to think better of it at the last moment. Spike usually just wanted a rise out of him, and the best thing he could do would to not react. “You’re welcome.”

 

The younger vampire smirked, knowing that Angel had caught onto his game, and nodded. “So you’re not going to make a big deal out of this?” Buffy asked. “Because I swear—”

 

“It’s okay, Buffy,” Angel said, looking pained. “Well, it’s not okay, but I like Spike better than I liked Riley.”

 

Spike grinned broadly. “And who wouldn’t?”

 

“Spike—” Buffy gave him an exasperated look, and he just smiled back. She shook her head. “You really must be feeling better.”

 

He sobered slightly. “A bit. They’re—they’re not as overwhelming.”

 

His eyes met hers and Buffy realized what he wasn’t saying. The visions were still there, still disturbing, he just wasn’t completely off his nut. “Why don’t we go inside and wait for Anya?”

 

Spike nodded, and was about to follow the Slayer inside, when Angel caught his arm. “We’ll be right in,” he told Buffy. She didn’t look happy about leaving them alone, but when Spike nodded, she went inside.

 

“Look, Spike—”

 

“Save it,” Spike said. “I know what you’re going to say. Same thing her friends will get around to saying to me. ‘Hurt her, an’ we’ll stake you.’ Can we just leave it there?”

 

“That wasn’t what I was going to say,” Angel said, annoyed. “Though, same goes for me.” He shook his head, frustrated that Spike had managed to put him off track, as he seemed to be able to do so easily. “No, I know you’re good to the people you think you need to take care of, Spike. I’m actually not all that worried. I remember how you took care of Dru.”

 

Spike considered his grandsire’s words for a moment, before nodding, knowing that this was as close to Angel’s blessing as he was going to get. It was about as close as he wanted to get. Too much had gone on between the two of them to go merrily along, but they had been as close as two vampires could be at one time. “Then what was it?” he asked, his tone softer.

 

“I know what it means to have your soul returned,” Angel said. “If you need someone to talk to…well, you could talk to me. Not that I necessarily want you to, but you can.”

 

“Right,” Spike said, unsure of what to say to reply to that. “Well, thanks for the offer.”

 

“Spike?” Dawn stuck her head out the door, looking excited. “Anya’s here. Wesley’s ready to do the spell.”

 

“You actually excited about me getting experimented on, Bit?”

 

Dawn shrugged. “It’s magic. Spells are cool.”

 

“Yeah, s’pose so,” he replied wryly. “If you’re not the one getting magicked.” Spike stopped, putting his hand on one side of the doorframe.

 

“You okay?” Angel asked, sounding a lot more concerned than he wanted to.

 

Spike nodded. “Yeah. Just a bit—dizzy. It’ll pass.”

 

Angel followed him indoors and into the living room, where Wesley had set up what he needed for the spell. The others, including the newly arrived Xander and Anya, were standing around and looking on with interest. “Good,” Wesley said, nodding at Spike. “Are you ready?”

 

“Is this going to hurt?” Spike asked suspiciously.

 

Wesley smiled a little. “No. The spell will actually have more of an effect on me than on you. I’ll go into a trance state, and I should be able to see not only your aura, but also if anything has connected itself to you.”

 

“An’ if it has?” Spike asked, sounding a little nervous.

 

“I’ll try to break the connection,” Wesley explained. “That’s why Tara and Willow will also be with me on this. Between the three of us, we should be able to break any hold the warlock may have over you.” He waved to a spot in the middle of the floor where he’d cleared space. “Now, if you’ll just have a seat.”

 

Spike lowered himself to the floor slowly, taking an apprehensive breath. He looked over at Buffy, who smiled. She wasn’t feeling completely happy about this herself, but if Wes was right, and the warlock had some link to Spike, it was better to get rid of it now.

 

To everyone else in the room, it didn’t appear as though anything were happening. Wes, Tara, and Willow were seated in a triangular formation around Spike, who was still looking a little nervous. There was some chanting, and lighting of candles, and burning of herbs, and then Spike looked like he’d gone to sleep, while the others just stared at each other.

 

Buffy sidled a little closer to Giles. “What are they doing?” she whispered.

 

“They’ve asked for their inner eye to be open. From now on, they’ll be communicating telepathically.” Giles looked slightly impressed. “Apparently, Wesley has become quite proficient in these matters since we last saw him.”

 

“Wesley looks as though he’s gotten a lot more proficient in general,” Buffy remarked under her breath, though loud enough for Giles to hear. “I think L.A. has been good for him.”

 

“I think being out from under the Council’s thumb has been equally beneficial,” Giles replied. “Getting fired does have a freeing effect on one’s personality.”

 

“And you would know,” Buffy teased. “Though you haven’t gone back to being the same old stick in the mud since you got rehired.”

 

“One does not go backward in life,” Giles replied. “Thankfully, I might add. From what I understand, Angel’s been quite a good influence on him as well.”

 

Buffy looked thoughtful. “And you know? Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

 

~~~~~

 

“Oh wow.” Willow’s sentiment was echoed by her girlfriend almost immediately.

 

Tara’s voice filtering through her conscious mind like bells. “This is incredible.”

 

“Indeed.” Wesley’s dry tones had the sound of slight awe as well, but he was better at hiding it.

 

Tara’s smile could also be felt through the bond. “I’d had glimmers of this, but I’ve never been able to see so clearly.”

 

They were looking at the room as through a filmy veil. The auras of the others in the room were all that was visible of them. In this trance-state, the real world was nearly invisible, leaving only the mystical to stand out solidly. All three of them were focused on Spike, at the center of the triangle. His aura pulsed a bright blue, threaded through with lines of black, almost like cracks in glass. The lines were pulsing in time with the aura, however, and all three took a moment to stare.

 

“So he does have a soul,” Wesley breathed. He hadn’t been certain, but he had certainly wondered. Quite honestly, he couldn’t see what else might have changed William the Bloody in such a drastic manner. But Buffy’s reaction to his looking to see if Spike had a soul or not seemed to suggest that the changes had begun earlier.

 

Willow was staring as well. “What are the black lines though?” she asked, looking around the room. There were two other auras also threaded through with black. One she recognized as Angel’s, and it almost appeared as though the black and red were fighting each other for dominance. The other’s also pulsed in time, though the lines were fainter and less visible.

 

“I’d wondered,” Wesley said quietly.

 

Tara recognized both immediately, having already gotten glimpses of both of them. “It’s Angel and Buffy.”

 

“But the black?” Willow insisted. “I mean, if it were only Angel and Spike, I’d say it was their demons, but Buffy doesn’t have a demon.”

 

“The Slayer is more than human,” Wesley reminded her. “The Council isn’t very open about where that power comes from, but there is some indication that it stems from the darker side of things.” He considered for a moment. “Interesting, but Spike seems more at peace with his demon than Angel does.”

 

“He’s been changing for a long time,” Tara supplied, confirming Wesley’s suspicions.

 

Wesley nodded. “Very well. In any case, it is imperative that we begin. Too long in this state, and we will not have the necessary energy to break any ties this warlock might have.”

 

Disregarding the delights the inner eye offered, the three magic workers focused on Spike. The tie, once they started looking for it in earnest, was easy to spot. It appeared as a thin, murky brown thread. Even just following it psychically made all three feel dirty. “Ick,” Willow thought, broadcasting to the others. “I’m definitely going to need a shower after this.”

 

“It’s bad,” Wesley agreed grimly.

 

Tara mentally shook her head. “More than bad,” she said. “It’s steeped in dark magicks. We’re going to need to do a cleansing spell for all of us after this.”

 

“And probably Spike too,” Willow added, feeling more grim as the seconds ticked by and they got closer to the source.

 

The source of the tie was close to them. They sensed that he was in Sunnydale, although they couldn’t pinpoint his location. But his mere presence was a definite indication that someone was out to get Spike. “We’ll break it off near Spike,” Wesley warned them. “The circle should protect him from any backlash.”

 

Willow felt a harsh satisfaction, knowing that the warlock wouldn’t be expecting this, and would have no such protection. As Wesley mentally counted down to three, Willow joined with Tara’s mind, the two of them meshing seamlessly, and then drawing Wesley in so that they might act as one. For one perfect moment, they were in complete accord, and in that moment, they struck with all the power available to them.

 

The tie strained, cracked, then broke under the weight of their combined offensive, and the three of them could feel the power drain into the protective circle. In the next moment, they broke away from each other, unable to hold the unity for more than an instant. Tara and Willow lingered for mere seconds, sending each other tender mental caresses, and then shook themselves.

 

The others in the room hadn’t noticed that anything at all was happening, though Giles’ senses had picked up a strong surge, attuned as he was to the use of magic. “So did it work?” Xander asked from his corner. “Is Spike all soul-having now?”

 

“It worked,” Wesley replied in a scratchy, tired voice.

 

Buffy moved over to Spike’s side. He was still unconscious, and she felt a surge of sympathy. It had really not been his week. “Will he be okay?”

 

Tara was the one who replied. “He’ll be fine, Buffy. But the breaking of that kind of tie can be traumatic.” She looked apologetic, and Wesley continued.

 

“Because of the Effrendik poisoning, it is difficult to tell how this will affect him, Buffy,” Wesley said gently. “I imagine there could be a setback. You might need to restrain him.”

 

Buffy looked at her Watcher, who nodded at the tranq gun sitting unobtrusively in the corner. “We’ll be fine. The restraints could just freak him out more.”

 

Wesley nodded. “Of course.” He looked over at Angel. “Unless you need us for something else, Angel and I had planned on driving back tonight.”

 

The statement was more of a question, directed at Angel. He hesitated. They had planned on driving back to L.A. as soon as possible, but he hated to leave so soon. That, and he was uncertain about leaving Buffy with Spike, no matter what he’d said earlier. “If you want some help with this warlock, you know…”

 

“We know how to get in touch with you,” she said, shaking her head. “But we’ve got a couple powerful witches of our own.”

 

Angel nodded, knowing that he had no other excuse for staying. “Yeah, well, you’ll let us know how it turns out?”

 

“Sure,” Buffy said, walking him to the door and outside. Angel pulled her aside, off the porch, as Wesley shook hands and said his own good-byes.

 

Angel looked uncomfortable. “Look, Buffy, make sure you know what you’re getting into with Spike. I don’t think he’d intentionally hurt you, but if you’re not serious about this relationship, he could go off. He’s very possessive.”

 

“Then that makes two of us,” Buffy replied, with a smile. “Look, I know you and Spike aren’t the best of buds, but we’ve gone over this already, remember? We’re each free to live our own lives now. We both knew we’d move on someday.”

 

Angel gave her an appraising look. “You’ve really grown up, you know that?”

 

“I had to,” Buffy said softly. “Somebody around here has to be the responsible adult.”

 

Angel nodded, knowing that she was referring to her mom’s death. “I’m sorry, Buffy.”

 

“It’s okay,” she replied, almost meaning it. “I mean, it’s getting better. And Spike helps. I couldn’t tell you why exactly, but he really does.”

 

Wesley came up to them then, clapping one hand on Angel’s shoulder. “I think it’s time to go, Angel,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. He held out his right hand to Buffy. “It’s been good to see you again, Buffy.”

 

“Never thought I’d say this, but likewise,” the Slayer replied. “Take care of yourselves.”

 

Angel cast one look back over his shoulder as they went to his car, and then did not turn again. Buffy didn’t stay to watch them go. For the first time, she felt that there was an ending to her relationship with the vampire. It _felt_ over, rather than just on hold. And she had a brand new something to look forward to.

 

~~~~~

 

For the first time since he’d been poisoned, Spike woke feeling refreshed, and not as though he’d been put through the wringer. Even though his head did hurt abominably.

 

“How are you?” Buffy asked. She had slept by his side all night, and had been waiting for him to wake up. Tara and Willow had seemed to think it would be a while, and they warned her that there might be some trauma. But Spike seemed to recognize her, and his eyes were clear.

 

“My head hurts,” he mumbled, bringing himself to focus on her. “But other than that, better. What are you doing here?”

 

She smiled at him. “Waiting for you to wake up. Oh, and sleeping. I figured I could trust you to share the bed with me.”

 

“You have to work today?” Spike asked, a plaintive note in his voice.

 

“Yeah,” Buffy said, sounding a little disappointed herself. “But Dawn will be here. So you’ll have company.”

 

“And then I’ll patrol with you tonight,” Spike added.  


Alarmed was about the only way to describe Buffy’s expression. “Spike, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

 

“Not if I’m still feeling off,” he agreed. “But I feel better now, and I’ll be even better than that tonight. Not letting you go out by yourself when there’s nasties from that warlock running about.” He paused. “That’s what you found out, right? I mean—”

 

“You have a soul, and the warlock was still linked to you,” Buffy said, quickly filling him in, having forgotten that he was unconscious for the big reveal after the spell was over. She reached over and stroked his cheek. “Wesley, Willow and Tara managed to break the tie. So now you’re warlock-free.”

 

“All the more reason I go with you,” Spike insisted. “Luv, if he noticed that, it could get pretty bad out there. I want to be with you. Can’t protect you if I’m not.”

 

Buffy sighed, knowing that she really had no way of stopping him from coming with her, short of chaining him up. “Alright. If you’re still feeling okay tonight, you can come.”

 

Spike spent the rest of the day with Dawn, reading and watching TV. He had managed to finish the second Harry Potter book, and they were having a rather rousing discussion on whether actual basilisks existed. Spike said no, as he’d never seen one. Dawn maintained that there was always a possibility, and he couldn’t convince her that he’d seen everything there was to see.

 

Buffy came home while they were still debating over possibility versus probability, and she’d brought leftovers from the restaurant for her and Dawn. They were still discussing it when Buffy announced her plans to leave. “Are you coming, Spike?” she asked, with barely concealed amusement.

 

“Yeah. I’m fine,” he assured her, squeezing Dawn’s arm in farewell affectionately. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow, Bit.”

 

“Don’t forget what you promised,” Dawn said, referring to his promise to teach her some moves two nights ago.

 

He winked in lieu of an answer, and he and Buffy stepped out into the night air. Spike took a deep breath; he hated to be cooped up for that long. He usually slept during the day, but the Nibblet had wanted to talk, and he’d felt as though he’d slept enough—or been unconscious enough—for the next week. But being inside and awake all day had driven home the fact that he was basically trapped, unable to go out while the sun was still up.

 

Buffy had been well meaning, but Spike had hated feeling so dependent on her, so weak. While he had enjoyed her taking care of him, that didn’t mean he liked the fact that she’d needed to in the first place. Being that helpless reminded him too strongly of being in that bloody wheelchair.

 

The night was quiet, more so than it had been in quite some time, and Spike finally commented on it. “Not seeing much action out here tonight, luv.”

 

Buffy shook her head. “No, we’re not. I don’t think we need to worry about that warlock for a couple of days though. Willow said that the backlash from that spell will probably put him out of commission for at least a short period of time.”

 

“That’s good to know,” Spike said. “So if there isn’t much action here…”

 

Buffy smiled at him. “Oh, I think we could manage something,” she replied. “But I’m thinking we might want to go to your place. Dawn’s at home, so we’d have to be quiet.”

 

“I’m not planning on quiet,” Spike assured her. They moved towards each other in one accord, starting on what promised to be a very steamy kiss. Which is, of course, why someone started screaming.

 

There was an instant where both of them were tempted to ignore the sounds of an obvious problem, but they finally broke apart and headed off towards the commotion. Spike got there first, and he launched himself at the two vampires who were hassling a young man and his girlfriend. At least, Spike thought they were vampires.

 

Buffy got there a split second behind him, and she called out a warning. “Spike, no! They’re human!”

 

It was too late. One of the muggers was hit by a powerful left from the vampire, and he flew into the brick wall of the alley, slumping unconscious. The Slayer quickly incapacitated the second, and turned to Spike, expecting to see him in quite a bit of pain from hitting a human.

 

Instead, he stood there frozen, looking from the two they’d rescued, to the thug on the ground, and over at Buffy, who quite suddenly realized why he wasn’t in pain. The stake was in her hand before she even had time to think about needing it.

 

Spike saw the stake, knew what it meant that he was able to hurt humans again, and growled deep in his throat, the demon emerging. He grinned suddenly, fangs prominent, showing the Slayer a taste of what was to come.

 

Right before he sank his teeth into her throat.


	9. Sorrow's Own Joys

Lyndon had felt the shockwave coming right before it hit him, but not soon enough to do any good. The power-surge had actually knocked him unconscious, and when he woke several hours later, he still was too weak to do more than crawl into his makeshift bed.

 

It had been the witches; that he was sure of. He had felt a distinct womanly presence, plus a little taste of someone else who was unfamiliar. Lyndon cursed. They had completely broken his tie to the vampire. There was no way he could sense what his handiwork was doing now, no way to sense the emotional state of the creature.

 

He groaned. Now that the wards were up, he couldn’t renew his hold over Spike. The best time to do it would be while he was unconscious, and that would be while he was sleeping. Next time he actually got his hands on the meddling little son of a bitch, Spike wouldn’t be walking away. He’d be floating away on a good stiff breeze.

 

Lyndon began concentrating on the next stage of the plan. The witches. He had to get rid of the witches, first and foremost. That was most certainly his next step.

 

~~~~~

 

He ran. It was all he could think of to do, even though he had no idea if Buffy was still alive. He had never wanted to hurt her, never. (Well, not “never,” but certainly not in recent history.) Once he realized the chip was out, however, it was like his demon had taken control, as though he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

 

Spike finally came to rest blocks, if not miles, away, panting unnecessarily, shaken to the core. What was he going to do now? What had he done? He had—he had—

 

He was still hungry.

 

Spike could feel the hunger, a gnawing at his very core, and he knew what it meant. He hadn’t had any blood since that morning, when he ate breakfast with Dawn. Forcing himself to take a deep breath and think logically, Spike took stock of exactly what had happened.

 

There had been the humans attacked in the alley, apparently by other humans. He had sprung into action, Buffy had warned him to stop, he had hit a human, and there had been no pain.

 

After that, everything got a little fuzzy. Buffy had been clutching a stake, that much he was sure of. And he did remember sinking his fangs into her throat—but he didn’t feel any different. Spike clearly remembered the last time he’d drank Slayer’s blood, and the power rush was absolutely incredible. If anything, he just felt sick and weak.

 

He pushed himself off the brick wall behind him, suddenly sure that he’d had another hallucination. Buffy had warned him that they could come up unexpectedly for a while. Spike still wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, however. Even if Buffy had said she didn’t care if he had a soul or not, she was still hanging onto that stake pretty tightly. He was quite sure he hadn’t hallucinated that.

 

With a heavy heart, Spike set out for the Summers’ residence. Whatever Buffy was going to do, whatever she decided, he just wanted to know and get it over with.

 

~~~~~~

 

Buffy cursed as she watched Spike take off. Sticking the stake back in her pocket, she turned to chase the two love birds off home, giving them a stern warning about the dangers of walking through dark alleys. Then, she had to escort the two thugs off to the police station. By this point, Sunnydale’s finest barely questioned her. They went by the “don’t ask, don’t tell” philosophy, which seemed to be working for them up to this point.

 

After giving a brief statement, she left the police station, still mentally berating herself. The look on Spike’s face just before he took to his heels—he’d looked more horrified than she’d felt, and she was the one who pulled out her stake. After all that talk about how she cared, and how it didn’t matter if he had a soul or not, and Buffy had reached for a pointy wooden object at the first indication that the chip didn’t work anymore.

 

Buffy thought about her reaction. That’s all it really had been. She had spent the last two years wondering what would happen if Spike’s chip ever stopped working, and she had known exactly how she would react.

 

Stake first, ask questions later.

 

Up to this point, it had seemed like a smart option, if only because she remembered what had happened when Angel lost his soul. If she’d been able to follow that policy, a lot of lives would have been saved, and she might have spared herself a whole lot of grief. Even more recently, when Spike had started to help them with the whole Glory thing, Buffy hadn’t thought her reaction would be any different.

 

It was only recently that she’d been able to see Spike as anything other than the evil pain-in-her-ass and serious annoyance. She wouldn’t have had any trouble staking that Spike. But this Spike—the one who watched out for her sister, and held her while she cried, the one who sent flowers and poetry, who had sobbed in her arms—

 

Well, if she had thought killing Angel had been bad, killing Spike would be infinitely worse.

 

With a put-upon sigh, Buffy went off to look for him, thinking that she had probably scared him off for good. Really, pulling a stake on the vampire you loved was just the way to say you cared.

 

She went by Willy’s first, because it was on her way to Spike’s house. He was nowhere to be found in his house, so she went by his crypt. When she couldn’t find him at his crypt, Buffy swung by the Bronze, but he wasn’t there either.

 

At this point, the night was beginning to get very old, or the day was beginning to get very young. She really didn’t want to stop by his house again, on the off chance he’d made his way there after she’d stopped by. Nor did she want to simply go home without an opportunity to explain that grabbing a weapon had been reflex. A bad one, but certainly nothing more than that.

 

Buffy turned and decided to head home. She would just have to hope that Spike found his way to shelter before the sun came up, and that he would come to her when he could. Or, that he would let her explain things as soon as she caught up to him.

 

Buffy was actually not terribly surprised when she approached her house, only to see the glow of a cigarette tip under what she’d begun to think of as Spike’s tree. She knew he was watching as she approached the house, waiting for her to say something, maybe.

 

Instead, they stood there in silence, both wondering what the other’s reaction really was, what they were hiding. “Why did you run?” Buffy asked.

 

“Why’d you grab a stake?” Spike replied, challenging her with the tilt of his chin and the hardness of his eyes.

 

It was a standoff, neither one of them willing to back up. It had been a long time since Buffy had seen this side of him; she’d almost forgotten who he was. He took her silence for a different sort of challenge than it was. “So we gonna fight now, Slayer?” Spike asked. “This how it’s gonna go down? You don’t trust me without the leash, so we’re gonna go at it?”

 

Buffy had a different sort of “going at it” in mind, but she wasn’t quite willing to back off. “I’m not going to fight you, Spike.”

 

“So that’s it then?” he asked bitterly. “Spike’s off his leash, and now he’s got to go?”

 

She stared at him. “Spike, you idiot, you have a soul! Are you planning on draining me the first chance you get?”

 

“No!” he replied angrily. “’Course not. I just—” Spike’s shoulders slumped, and Buffy watched the fight go out of him. “I had another flashback, luv. I—I could see myself draining you.”

 

“And a part of you wanted it,” Buffy said knowingly.

 

He shrugged. “Not really, but yeah. Slayer’s blood is sweet, Buffy. I still remember the taste.”

 

Buffy took a step closer to him, knowing that he was being completely honest with her, more honest than she had any right to expect him to be. To be a vampire and tell the Slayer that you still wanted to taste her blood: it was akin to a death wish. “Then why don’t you take a bite?”

 

Spike took a step back from her. “What? Are you crazy, luv? You don’t offer something like that to a vampire. I don’t care if I do have a soul.”

 

She took another step towards him, making up the distance he’d created. “And if I told you I trusted you to stop?”

 

“This a game?”

 

“No games.”

 

There was silence as Spike stared at the vein in her neck, throbbing in time with her heartbeat. “I can’t.” He reached out and traced the thin blue line. “Not while these flashbacks are still threatening to take control. I might not be able to stop.”

 

Buffy nodded slowly. “Then why don’t we try something else?”

 

He read what she meant in her eyes, in the way her heart sped up. “Are you sure? Dawn—”

 

“Married people with kids still have sex, and they manage to do it without damaging their children for life,” Buffy replied with a smile. “So we’ll just have to be quiet.”

 

Spike tried to read her, tried to read what she wanted from him. They had gone so quickly from being allies, back to enemies, back to allies and on to friends. And now they were moving to the next level, and he wasn’t sure his heart wasn’t being left in the dust. What did she want? Did she really want him? Did she just want someone who could understand her, or did she want someone who could help her hide from the world for a few hours?

 

Suddenly, Spike decided that it didn’t matter. He was hers—whether she wanted _him_ or not. He would give her all, and count himself lucky. She was his bright goddess, and he would put himself on her altar.

 

Spike let her take him by the hand and lead him into the house. If he’d had a heartbeat, it would have been racing. If he’d had any breath, he wouldn’t have been able to catch it. When they stopped in front of Joyce’s bedroom, he gave her a questioning look.

 

“It’s not right next door to Dawn’s room,” Buffy explained quietly. “I’ve actually been planning on moving in here, but—” She stopped, composed herself. “I cleaned stuff out, boxed it up and put it in the basement. I just haven’t been able to bring myself to stay in here yet.”

 

“Whatever you want, Buffy,” Spike said quietly, letting her make the decision. “I can be quiet, if you need me to be.”

 

She shook her head. “This is—this is okay.” Buffy smiled. “Mom really liked you, you know. I think she liked you more than Angel or Riley.”

 

“She was a good woman,” he replied, brushing a tendril of hair away from her face. “Just like her daughter.”

 

Buffy opened the door, and stepped through, pulling Spike behind her. In a way, this felt like the ultimate sacrilege, sleeping with your boyfriend in your parent’s bed. In another way, this simply felt like an affirmation of life, as though she were really moving on. She had left her childhood sweetheart behind her last night. Tonight, she would leave any pretense of being a child. Tonight, she would pack away any hidden hopes of her mom coming back.

 

She would celebrate life, affirm it, with a dead man. The irony was not lost on her.

 

Once the door was closed behind them, they moved as one. The music of the ancient dance was something they both understood. They moved to the beat of the same drummer. Their tongues, their hands, both fought and soothed, dominated and submitted.

 

For Buffy, it was better than she felt she had any right to hope. Spike fit with her so perfectly, his coolness matching her heat in a pattern of yin and yang as ancient as the sea. His hands knew where to touch, where to tease. His lean frame seemed the best counterpoint to her own slender build.

 

Spike simply couldn’t believe his good fortune. He had dreamt of this moment for months, finally losing hope, only to get it back, only to lose it again. Now, she was here in his arms, saying his name, looking into his eyes, so that he was certain that she was here with him, and not imagining anyone else.

 

Clothing was strewn around the room in their haste to unwrap each other, like two kids on Christmas morning. They lost themselves in each other, and found themselves all over again.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy snuggled back into Spike’s arms in the afterglow of their lovemaking. It had been really, really nice. “You doing okay, luv?” he whispered in her ear.

 

“Yeah. More than okay,” Buffy replied.

 

He nuzzled her neck. “So it was good.”

 

“It was good.”

 

“More than good?” Spike pushed.

 

Buffy pretended to think about it. “On a scale from one to ten, I’d give it an eight.”

 

“An eight?” Spike sounded hurt. “An eight? That’s bloody well all?” He was rapidly going from hurt to outraged. “That was the best I know I’ve ever had, and you give it an eight?”

 

She laughed. “Spike, you have to give yourself room for improvement. Next time, we’ll shoot for a ten.” At his growl, she added, “If it makes you feel any better, eight’s the best I’ve ever had.”

 

He chuckled suddenly, realizing that she was teasing. “This was the best night of my bloody unlife, Slayer.”

 

“It’s ranking up there for me too, Spike,” Buffy replied, more seriously.

 

He sighed happily, his grip on the Slayer tightening. “Never thought I’d be here,” he admitted. “Never really thought you’d want me.”

 

“Well, I never thought I’d be here either, but I’m glad I am,” Buffy replied. She turned in his grip to look at him. He lay stretched out, the sheet covering him from the waist down. He was beautiful, Buffy thought. With tender fingers, she traced the marks on his chest, now faint, white lines. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be sorry, Buffy,” Spike said, a little surprised at her apology. “It’s worth it, just to be here now.”

 

“But you were hurt,” she said. “I hate that he hurt you.”

 

He shook his head, reaching up to trace her cheek with one finger. “Doesn’t hurt anymore.”

 

“Doesn’t it?” Buffy asked. “And that nightmare I walked in on the other day? That doesn’t still hurt you?”

 

“I’m a vampire, luv,” he said. “I killed people. I feel guilty. It’s right that I should.”

 

Buffy shook her head. “You still hurt, though.” She leaned down and kissed the marks on his chest, slowly, as though she could kiss him and make it better.

 

“I love you,” Spike whispered, sounding breathless as she ministered to him.

 

Buffy shook her head. “Why, Spike? What do you see when you look at me?”

 

“I see a girl so strong, she hasn’t yet reached her limits.” He did not ask her what she saw in him; Spike didn’t want to know. He still couldn’t understand why he was here, with her, and he didn’t want to try and explain it. He just wanted to revel in it.

 

“You want to know what I see?” Buffy asked, reading both the question and the fear in his blue eyes, so expressive. They were windows to his soul. It was cliché, but she’d never understood what it meant until now.

 

When he remained silent, Buffy continued. “I see a man who loves so deeply, he hasn’t yet reached his own depths.”

 

Spike felt a shuddering in his belly. In her eyes, he saw himself. “Buffy—”

 

“I see the man I’m falling in love with.”

 

There was only one way to reply to that. Spike made love to her again, not even caring that there were tears staining his cheeks.

 

~~~~~

 

It was very nearly sunrise when Spike reluctantly pulled away. “I should go, Buffy,” he whispered, as she slowly woke. “Sun’s almost up, and I can’t stay here forever.”

 

“You can stay here today,” she said.

 

He smiled. “Wish I could, but I should get back to my own place. I’ve been here for days now. I’ll wear out my welcome.”

 

“Not going to happen,” she argued. “Spike, stay, please.”

 

“Luv—”

 

“I have this issue with guys leaving the morning after we’ve made love for the first time,” Buffy said. “So don’t leave.”

 

He sighed and crawled back into bed with her, not really unhappy that she’d won the argument. “I’d never leave you.”

 

“Good,” Buffy replied cheekily. “Because I’m getting used to having you around.”

 

Spike buried her face in her hair, and let himself drift off to sleep, hearing her parting words float past his ear. “Love you, Spike.”


	10. Collateral Damage

“Keep your left up, Bit,” Spike instructed patiently. “And you’ll want to watch the shoulders and the eyes. A good fighter will keep his eyes focused so his opponent doesn’t know what’s coming. But the shoulders will usually give it away.”

 

Dawn nodded determinedly. “Got it.”

 

“Okay,” Spike said. “We’re going to start slow, and then we’ll speed it up.”

 

Dawn had reminded him of his promise to show her a few moves, and Spike had been willing to comply. For the past few nights, he’d spent more time at the Summers’ home than his own place. Now that the chip wasn’t working, Spike wasn’t having any problems sparring with Dawn or Buffy, and he found training with both enjoyable, for completely different reasons.

 

He ran her through the basic defenses he’d taught her, Dawn blocking every move at half speed. “Good,” Spike complimented. “Very good, Bit. Now, we go full speed. You up for it?”

 

“Absolutely,” she replied, setting her jaw determinedly.

 

Spike went slower than his top speed, of course, and Dawn managed to block most of his punches. Any strikes that got through, Spike managed to stop just short of contact. “You’ll want to watch that,” he warned her. “It’s one thing to let me get a hit through, but a vampire will be a different story. You run into a vamp, your first job is to get away. Goal isn’t to keep him busy. You need to hurt him and run. Or stake him as quickly as possible, right through the heart.”

 

He stopped and pulled away, reaching in his pocket for a stake. “Here.”

 

Dawn stared at him. “Spike—I don’t want to stake you.”

 

“Don’t particularly want you to stake me,” he replied, amused. “If you even could. It’s rubber, so it’ll be okay, luv.”

 

The girl lunged suddenly, and the rubber stake hit him right over his heart. “Point taken.” Spike reached out and stroked the side of her face. “Good to know you can hit the heart, Bit, just in case you ever have to.”

 

“I couldn’t, though, Spike,” Dawn replied. “I couldn’t kill you.”

 

Spike wanted to tell her that that kind of thinking could get her killed, that it would leave her open in the future. That, of course, if the worst happened, she would have to be ready to protect herself, even against him. But he didn’t. Even if the worst were to happen, and he was to come over all evil one morning, he didn’t think he could hurt Dawn. Not his Bit.

 

“It’s alright, luv,” Spike said, reassuring her. “You won’t have to. Promise you that. Now—” He put up his hands again, signaling the beginning of the next session of sparring. “Let’s try that again, this time with you having the stake in your hand. Remember, quicker is better, Niblet.”

 

~~~~~

 

“So how did she do?” Buffy asked. She and Spike were supposed to be patrolling, but in reality it was more like going for a stroll. Of course, she knew about her boyfriend’s training sessions with Dawn. Spike had informed her that he was going to be doing some sparring with her sister, but Buffy had pretended to be oblivious. She knew it gave Dawn a kick to think she was pulling one over on her, and Buffy didn’t mind. Just as long as she knew what was really going on.

 

“Good,” Spike replied. Buffy might be strolling, but he was keeping one ear cocked for any surprise attacks. Things had been pretty quiet the last few days, which told the vampire that the warlock was biding his time. He wanted to be ready. “She’s a natural, really. Takes after her sister.”

 

Buffy smiled. “Well, the monks did make her out of me, so that’s not too surprising. I’m glad you’re training her, Spike.”

 

He cocked his head, looking over at her. “Really? Gotta say, luv, I was a bit surprised when you told me to go ahead.”

 

“If Dawn had known how to protect herself a few months ago when the scabby hobbits came to grab her, she would have been better off. And you know I can’t be with her all the time.” Buffy sighed. “In fact, she was asking me if she could go to the Bronze with some of her friends the other day—without me anywhere nearby.”

 

“She’s growing up,” Spike agreed. “Won’t be long before it’s a boy she’s wanting to go with.” They exchanged a knowing look.

 

“As long as he has a heartbeat,” Buffy replied. “And if you have ‘the talk’ with him I think we’ll be okay. Dating a vampire is all well and good if he’s you, but I’ve already staked my claim.”

 

He cast her a look that was half-amused, half-worried. “‘Staked?’ You sure you want to use that particular word, luv?”

 

Buffy laughed. “Bad word,” she agreed. Sighing, she looked around the cemetery. “This is ridiculous. It’s way too quiet tonight.”

 

“Makes me nervous,” Spike murmured. “From what the witches said, that spell might have hurt him pretty bad. He’ll want revenge for that.”

 

“If it didn’t kill him,” Buffy said hopefully. She made a face, “Not that my luck is ever really that good.” She sighed. “I suppose I should head home.”

 

Spike nodded. “Yeah, it’s getting a bit late. I’ll see you there.”

 

“Maybe we could run by your house first?” Buffy asked suggestively.

 

Spike looked surprised, and then he realized what she was talking about. “Tired of being quiet already, luv?”

 

“Well, it does add a little challenge, but I’m thinking I’d like to try something new,” the Slayer said, her eyes sparkling. “Even if you do spend most of your time at my place, I think we should make sure to keep your house available.”

 

“Our own secret hideaway?” Spike asked with a smirk. “Sounds like a brilliant plan, pet.”

 

~~~~~

 

Tara and Willow were enjoying their walk in the moonlight. There was something to be said for being two of the most powerful witches in Sunnydale. That kind of power made it a lot easier to be out after dark safely, without having to rely on the Slayer as backup.

 

“You know,” Willow said thoughtfully as they walked. “It might be kind of nice to spend some time with the L.A. crew. Wesley’s really changed, and I’ll bet he knows a lot about the occult.”

 

Tara nodded. “I liked him. He was—nice.”

 

“He was,” Willow agreed. “You should have seen him when he first came to Sunnydale.” She giggled. “He screamed like a girl.”

 

Tara echoed her giggle. “Angel was interesting, too. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but he’s a lot different than Spike, isn’t he?”

 

“I don’t think he could be more different if he tried,” Willow said, laughing.

 

Tara’s head suddenly shot up in alarm. “Willow? Do you—?”

 

Willow felt it at the same moment. There was a ripple, and she could sense the brewing of dark magicks. Grabbing her girlfriend’s hand, both witches braced themselves for what was coming, throwing up a mental shield. But it wasn’t a magical attack.

 

The five demons came out of nowhere, looking like something out of a nightmare, and that was saying something on the Hellmouth. Perfectly in tune with her girlfriend, Willow drew strength from Tara and threw out a fireball—to no effect. With a sinking feeling, both girls realized that the dark magic they had sensed was protecting the demons from their own attacks.

 

“I think it might be time to run,” Willow said, watching as the demons came to surround them.

 

“I think I like that plan,” Tara agreed.

 

It was easier said than done.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy lay curled up next to her vampire. His bedroom window was open, and she could feel a light breeze coming through, cooling down the room slightly. It was hot, even for southern California in the summertime, and he didn’t have air conditioning, which was definitely a downer.

 

On the other hand, his skin was cool. Definitely a plus to dating a vampire in the summer.

 

Speaking of cool—Spike’s fingers were gently tracing patterns on the skin of her stomach, and Buffy rolled over to face him. “Mmm. That feels good.”

 

“I aim to please, luv,” he replied softly, moving his hand from her side to her face. “Like a dream, you being here. Never thought this would happen.”

 

“It’s right up there on my ‘never in a million years’ list too,” she admitted. “This is definitely nice, though.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, I should really get home. I may have the day off tomorrow, but I need to run some errands and clean.” Buffy made a face. “Being a grown up sucks sometimes.”

 

“That it does,” he agreed. “You want some help?”

 

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you serious? You do household chores now?”

 

“I’d do anything for you, Buffy,” Spike replied softly. “Besides, have a house of my own, don’t I?”

 

“And it’s not a bad little house, either,” Buffy agreed, briefly snuggling back down into the crisp sheets on Spike’s bed. “Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll be okay. I’ll put Dawn to work, and we’ll get it done in no time. If you want to come over in the evening though, that would be nice. I told Dawn we’d rent some movies and have ‘sister’ time.”

 

Spike looked skeptical. “If it’s bonding time, doesn’t that mean I’m not there, pet?”

 

“Dawn wanted you to be there,” Buffy replied. She gave him a quick kiss, and then climbed out of bed, pulling on her scattered clothing. “She’s gotten pretty attached to you, though I have no clue why.”

 

He gave her a mock-glare. “Isn’t it obvious? I’ve got looks, charm, and an athletic build.”

 

Buffy laughed. “That you do. In spades, no less.” She leaned over to give him a good-bye kiss, which was rapidly getting heated. She might have been persuaded to stay just a little longer, but there was a banging on the door. “What—”

 

Spike scrambled out of bed, pulling a pair of jeans on quickly, and grabbing a t-shirt to throw on as he hurried down the stairs. “Dawn and the witches are the only ones who know where I am,” he told Buffy, a note of alarm in his voice.

 

Buffy was right behind him when he opened to door to reveal a frantic Dawn and a worried looking Xander. For once, the young man was too anxious to make any snide remarks about Buffy’s location or their obvious extra-curricular activities. “Xander? Dawn? What’s going on?”

 

Xander shook his head. “It’s—it’s bad, Buffy. I called your house, but when Dawn said you hadn’t come home yet, we thought we’d check for you here.”

 

“What happened?” the Slayer demanded, not really noticing when Spike left her side to pull on his boots and find a jacket.

 

He seemed to be having trouble putting it into words. “Willow—they were attacked earlier tonight.”

 

“Willow?” Buffy asked. “Is she okay? Xander, what happened? Is she hurt?”

 

Xander shook his head. “Willow’s okay, I think. She said she got banged up a little. But Tara was with her. She’s at the hospital.”

 

“Is she going to be okay?” Buffy asked.

 

Xander shook his head in reply, looking hesitant. “The doctors aren’t sure. She—she lost a lot of blood. They—they don’t know if she’s going to wake up.”

 

Spike joined them in the doorway. “Let’s go,” he said quietly.

 

~~~~~

 

The four of them walked through the emergency room doors at a half-run. Giles, Anya, and Willow were already in the waiting room. “Willow,” Buffy said, coming over to give her friend a hug. Buffy pulled back to assess her injuries. “Are you okay?”

 

Willow managed a shaky smile. “I think so. I’ve got some scratches and bruises, but Tara—Tara got the worst of it.” Her large hazel eyes filled. “Oh, Buffy, there was so much blood, and I couldn’t stop it.”

 

Buffy pulled the other girl back into a hug, glancing over at Spike, who was having a whispered conversation with Xander and Giles. “What are the doctors saying?”

 

Willow sniffed, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. “They think she’s going to be okay. There was a lot of blood loss, but they didn’t think there was any internal damage, and they think they got to her soon enough. It was too close, though.”

 

“I know,” Buffy replied softly. “Can you tell me what happened?”

 

Willow hesitated, looking over at Spike. At the expression on her face, Buffy’s own gaze hardened. “Let me guess. It was the warlock.”

 

“I think so,” Willow admitted. “We could feel the dark magicks being used, but it wasn’t a magical attack. There were these demons, five of them, with big claws. I don’t—I can’t even tell you what they looked like. I just—I don’t know. The magic—the magic was protecting them from us doing any spells on them. We couldn’t stop them.”

 

“How did you manage to get away?”

 

Willow shook her head. “We broke the shield around them. Between the two of us, we managed to kill three of them, but then one got through and injured Tara. I killed the other two then. I don’t even know how I did it—I was just so angry.”

 

“Well, let’s be glad you got good and mad then,” Buffy said, striving for levity. “So what do we do now?”

 

“Now, we wait,” Giles said softly, coming over and giving Willow a hug. “I’m afraid that there really isn’t anything else we can do.”

 

Buffy nodded, hugging Dawn. She looked over at Spike, who was standing slightly apart from the group. She could read the guilt in his eyes; they were dark and bruised with it. “Spike—”

 

“I’m going to have a smoke,” he said, not meeting her eyes. Buffy watched him go helplessly, knowing there wasn’t anything she could say to make it better, or to make him believe that it wasn’t his fault.


	11. We're Off to See the Wizard

Spike was on his third cigarette when the sun began to rise, sending thin threads of light into the morning sky. He was dangerously close to brooding, and he knew it, but he really didn’t care. He liked Tara—really, genuinely liked the witch. Like Joyce, she had always been kind, and he hated to think that she was hurting because of him.

 

“Spike?” He turned to see Willow looking at him in concern. “Shouldn’t you come in?” she asked, looking pointedly at the lightening sky.

 

The vampire took one last drag on his cigarette, and tossed it on the ground, stubbing it out with the toe of his boot. “Yeah. Guess I should.”

 

She grabbed his arm as he passed her to go inside. “It’s not your fault.”

 

“She wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me,” Spike replied, his tone angry.

 

“Tara wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for that warlock,” Willow corrected him. “And if you hadn’t stopped him from performing that ritual, we might not have been able to take him later on.”

 

Spike shook his head, unwilling to grant himself absolution, not when such a lovely girl as Tara lay in a hospital bed. Willow squeezed his arm to catch his attention again. “She’s going to be okay, Spike.”

 

He nodded, and followed her inside. Dawn came up to him immediately, wrapping her arms around his chest. Almost involuntarily, Spike returned her embrace. He met Buffy’s eyes, and she smiled at him reassuringly. Just then, the doctor came out into the waiting room. The older man glanced around, looking at the motley assortment of people, all waiting for word on Tara Maclay.

 

“Willow Rosenberg?” Willow stepped forward, looking worried. “Your friend is awake and asking for you,” he said, smiling. “It looks like she’s going to be just fine.”

 

They all breathed sighs of relief as the doctor led the redheaded witch back to Tara’s room. Buffy came over to stand next to Spike and her sister, thinking of her own relief not that long ago, knowing that Spike was going to be just fine after being poisoned with the demon venom.

 

She reached over and grabbed his hand, lacing her fingers through his. “It’s not your fault,” she said quietly, knowing that Willow had already told him the same thing.

 

Spike shook his head, again not quite accepting the softly spoken words as truth. He felt—maybe not quite guilty, but certainly responsible. He was the one who had upset the sorcerer’s plans, the one who was the real target. Willow and Tara were innocent bystanders who had tried to help him; they hadn’t deserved to get caught in the crossfire.

 

Buffy gently tugged on his hand, encouraging him to follow her over to the chairs. “Come on. We’re going to wait for Willow to let us know what’s going on, and then we’re going to go home and sleep.”

 

“Think it would be better for me to go to my own place,” Spike replied.

 

Buffy looked concerned, but then apparently decided that she would let him make the call. “If that’s what you want.”

 

Willow came out a few minutes later, smiling. “Tara’s fine. A little sore, but she’s going to be okay.” She looked over at Spike. “She wants to see you.”

 

Spike looked startled, but then quickly stood. He felt a strange mixture of eagerness and reluctance: eager to see for himself that she was fine, reluctant to see the damage wrought. He knocked gently before entering. Tara was wearing a hospital gown, and had an IV line running to her hand, dripping its medication steadily. “Hey.”

 

“Hi, Spike,” she replied. “Sit.” She motioned with her free hand to the side of the bed, and after a moment’s hesitation, he followed her lead. “It’s not your fault.”

 

Spike wouldn’t look at her. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the bandages covering one of her forearms, and another bandage ran across her collarbone and under her gown. There was a darkening bruise across one cheek, and a scratch ran across her chin. “Spike.” Her voice was gentle, but terribly insistent.

 

“I’m sorry, Glinda,” he murmured. Spike finally met her eyes, but there was the shadow of guilt there, maybe shame.

 

Tara shook her head. “It’s not your fault.” When he would have spoken, she interrupted him. “It’s not. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

 

“No, but—” He sighed. “Can’t help but feel it’s my fault, luv. Warlock wouldn’t have come after the two of you, if he wasn’t after me.”

 

Tara smiled gently. “And the world might not be here today if you hadn’t stopped the ritual from taking place. You did a good thing, Spike.”

 

“Right, real good thing.” Spike sighed and reached over to brush a piece of hair out of Tara’s face. “You should probably get some rest, Glinda. Red’ll turn me into a toad if I tire you out.”

 

“Not a toad,” Tara teased. “More like a big, fluffy puppy.”

 

He glared at her. “Hey! No use turning me into something I am already.”

 

They both shared a smile. “You’re not fluffy.” Tara patted his hand. “You’re more like a well-trained Rottweiler.”

 

“Thanks, luv. That’s real kind of you to say.” There was a small sound behind them, and they both looked to see Willow in the doorway. “I should go.”

 

“Buffy’s going to take Dawn home,” Willow said quietly. “She wanted to know if you wanted to come home with her, Spike.”

 

He shook his head. “I’ll take the sewers to my house.”

 

“Okay,” Willow said cheerfully. “Have a good sleep.”

 

“Sure thing,” Spike replied. He wasn’t planning on getting any sleep, however. The warlock had hurt one of his friends, he had attacked his girlfriend, and he’d about driven him ‘round the bloody bend. He was ready to end this. Now.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy went home and showered before collapsing into bed. She was exhausted, both by her and Spike’s evening activities as well as the emotional maelstrom of waiting in a hospital for news of Tara.

 

She and Dawn both slept well into the afternoon. It was nearing sunset when Willow showed up, looking distinctly cheery. “Tara pretty much made me leave,” she explained. “The doctor wants to keep her there overnight, but he said she could come home tomorrow.”

 

“That’s great, Will,” Buffy replied warmly. “I’m glad Tara’s going to be okay. I’ve been thinking about it, though, and I think we need to make an assault on this warlock. It was one thing when he was just sending demons our way to harass us. Like that’s anything new. But sending something after you two…”

 

Willow nodded. “I think it had something to do with the magic we did the other night, when we broke his link to Spike. He would have known it was us from our signatures. And if he was spying on Spike, it wouldn’t have been that hard to find us.”

 

“You’re right,” Buffy said. “Willow, what do we know about this warlock? How powerful is he? I mean, could you take him?”

 

Willow wrinkled her nose. “Actually, we pretty much don’t know anything, but I think I could take him. We managed to break his link, but that was with the three of us. There was a lot more power.” She frowned. “On the other hand…”

 

“On the other hand, what?” Buffy asked.

 

Willow shrugged. “I wasn’t really even trying. It was kind of like taking a beginning computer class for me, you know? Piece of cake. If I had to, I think I’d be a match.”

 

“But you can’t be sure,” Buffy finished, looking worried. She hated to think of getting in the middle of a battle and finding that out.

 

Willow smiled. “Well that depends. If I’ve got backup, it might be fine. You can’t really concentrate on doing magic if you’ve got someone sending sharp, pointy objects your way.”

 

“True,” Buffy replied. “I think between me and Spike, we can keep him busy. And with Xander, and maybe even Giles, to help, we might be able to distract him enough to kill him.”

 

Willow didn’t look unhappy about that last suggestion, though she did remind Buffy, “He is human, Buffy. Granted, not much of one, but he’s a person.”

 

“He stopped being a person the minute he tried to open the Hellmouth, or whatever.” Buffy replied. “I don’t care what he is, but he’s put himself outside the box.”

 

Willow jerked, her head spinning around to face the front door. “Will? What is it?”

 

“Something’s trying to come through the wards,” Willow said, her eyes narrowing. Buffy blinked as the pupil seemed to swallow up the rest of her eye, making both look black. “It’s not gonna happen.” There was a scary depth to her voice that took Buffy aback, until her friend turned to look at her again, her eyes back to normal and a smug smile on her face. “He’s not going to make it. He isn’t strong enough.”

 

Buffy smiled in response until another thought hit her. “What about Spike? If you’re not there to boost the ward-thingies, will they last?”

 

“I don’t know,” Willow admitted. “Are you going to go check on him?”

 

Buffy hesitated, and then shook her head. “Not right now. I need to call Giles and set up somewhere safe for Dawn. With any luck, Spike will get here pretty quick. He was supposed to come over tonight.”

 

In spite of the seriousness of the situation, Willow grinned. “Oh, yeah? Spill, Buff. Is it good?”

 

Buffy’s smile was both astonishingly content and mysterious at the same time. “You have no idea.”

 

~~~~~

 

Lyndon hadn’t thought it would be quite this easy to get his hands on Spike again. The wards that the witches had put up were strong, but they couldn’t protect the vampire while he was outside their influence. The idiot had actually come looking for him, thinking he could hurt him—Lyndon. It was utterly ridiculous.

 

Of course, the warlock was really okay with that.

 

With the vampire out of the way, it would be much easier to kill the Slayer and her friends. He’d already tried breaking through the wards on the Slayer’s house but had found it impossible to touch her. It didn’t really matter, though The Slayer seemed to be quite attached to the nuisance. His demise would bring a satisfying amount of grief and anguish, distracting her, and allowing him to launch a surprise attack she would be ill equipped to handle. Lyndon liked that plan.

 

He turned back to Spike, who hung by his wrists from the wall of the cave. The warlock had decided to move his headquarters to a less populated area of town. The Slayer wouldn’t find out his location until he wanted her to, and he could take his time with his new toy.

 

Spike’s face was bloody from the beating he’d gotten from the Fyarls Lyndon had hired. They had broken his nose, and one of his eyes had already swollen shut. Lyndon had given serious thought to recasting the Blood of the Victims’ curse on the vampire, but had decided that it was an old trick, and he never used the same curse twice on the same person.

 

Instead, he’d chosen a different hex, one that called up the deepest, darkest fears in a person’s psyche. Spike was lost—and would stay lost—in his nightmares. The best thing about this particular curse was that it was tied to the person’s own mind, and nothing else. Unless the vampire could break himself out of it, he’d be trapped inside his head forever. Or until Lyndon turned him into dust.

 

With a flick of his wrist, the warlock tore open Spike’s shirt and reopened the scars on his chest, causing the blood to come pouring out. Whether because of the pain, or because of what he was seeing, Spike screamed aloud.

 

Lyndon smiled. It was music to his ears.

 

~~~~~

 

“Spike?” Buffy called, entering the front door of his house. “You here?” She reached over and flipped the switch a couple times, with no result.

 

“Uh, Buffy?” Willow said. “I don’t think Spike has electricity.”

 

Buffy shook her head absently. “He tapped into a line. The lights were working last night.”

 

“Good thing I didn’t know about that, then,” Willow said quietly, pulling out a flashlight. A second beam joined hers from Xander’s light.

 

“And I’ll join those who didn’t know about Spike’s pilfering abilities,” Xander said.

 

Their lights caught a flash of white against the dark fabric of the couch. Buffy went over and picked up the sheet of paper, folded over in half. Borrowing Willow’s flashlight for a moment, she skimmed the contents of the note.

 

_Buffy—_

_Went to go find the bastard. It’s time I end this._

_Spike_

 

“Dammit, Spike,” Buffy hissed angrily. She couldn’t believe his nerve. When he hadn’t shown up an hour after sunset, Buffy had gotten worried, deciding that she should go look for him. They had already called Giles, who came over immediately after hearing that the wards on Buffy’s house had been tested.

 

After a rather long discussion, they had decided that Tara would be safe enough in the hospital, and with the wards up and Giles there, Dawn would be safe at the Summers’ house. Buffy’s Watcher was in agreement that the warlock needed to be stopped, and that until they could locate him, it would be better for all of them to stay in one place as much as possible.

 

Of course, that was assuming they could find Spike and get him home.

 

“Dammit,” Buffy repeated. “Willow, is there any way to find Spike? If he went out by himself, that warlock could have gotten his hands on him already.”

 

“I don’t know, Buff,” Xander said. “Surely Spike can take care of himself.”

 

“Xander, the warlock’s human. Spike wouldn’t be able to defend himself,” Willow reminded him.

 

Buffy winced. “Actually, Spike’s chip doesn’t work anymore.”

 

“What?” Xander demanded. “His chip _doesn’t work_? And you’re just letting him roam around free?”

 

Buffy glared at him. “Spike has changed, Xander. He has a soul.”

 

“And we all know how well that turned out last time,” he replied.

 

Willow stepped between them, trying to warn him off with her eyes. “Xander, now’s not the time.”

 

“Then when?” Xander asked. “When he goes evil and tries to kill us? Again? Have you already forgotten that Spike was the one who kidnapped us and was planning on killing us?”

 

“That was a long time ago,” Buffy protested. “And now that we have a warlock on the loose, trying to kill all of us, it’s so not the issue.”

 

“Then when we get done with all this, you’re going to forget all about him?” Xander replied. “You’ll finally figure out that vampires are for slaying, and dump the bleached evil undead?”

 

“I’m in love with him, Xander,” Buffy said quietly, but forcefully. “There will be no dumping. Besides, he’s changed.”

 

“He’s a vampire!” Xander protested.

 

Buffy stood up to him, nose to nose. “He’s _my_ vampire.”

 

They seemed to be at a stalemate, since it wasn’t likely that Xander was going to back off on his “I hate vampires” invective any time soon. “Xander, I’m not talking about Angel, or about any other vampire right now. I’m talking about Spike. He’s different.”

 

Xander stared at her, and then swallowed hard. “Okay, Buffy. But when Spike goes all crazy and tries to kill everybody, I reserve full rights to say ‘I told you so.’”

 

“Fine,” Buffy replied, knowing very well that Spike was not going to do anything of the sort. On the other hand, if it made Xander feel more comfortable to be cynical about the whole thing, so be it. “Now, back to business. Willow? Finding Spike?”

 

Willow breathed a sigh of relief now that the storm seemed to have passed for the time being. “Maybe. We could try a locator spell, which will work only if the warlock doesn’t have Spike or if he isn’t shielding well enough.”

 

“That would tell us where Spike is if he’s wandering around, but he would have found me by now,” Buffy said. “I just have a feeling that it’s not the case.”

 

Willow frowned. “There’s another way, maybe. If he’s using magic on Spike, or if he tries to attack you again, we might be able to trace it, like the police can trace a phone call.”

 

“That’s assuming he tries something,” Buffy replied.

 

Xander cleared his throat. “Or if he’s using magic. After what he did to Spike the first time, do you think he’ll be content just to tie him up and wait for the cavalry?”

 

There was a long silence, and then Buffy looked over at Willow. “We have to find him, and we have to find him now.”

 

~~~~~

 

“You’re nothing to me.” Spike tried to stop the words echoing through his head, but he seemed to have no control over his own thoughts. It was like being crazy all over again, but worse. Again, there was some small part of his brain that understood the images he was seeing weren’t real, but it wasn’t the part that was in control.

 

That part kept hearing Buffy’s voice—“You’re nothing to me, you’re beneath me. How could you think I would love something like you?”

 

If he wasn’t hearing her words, he was seeing her dead body, lying next to Dawn’s, their throats ripped out by his own teeth. He would hear their screams and know that there was nothing he could do to help them. He would see Dawn, her throat cut by Doc’s blade, the wound gaping at him. Over and over again the images played—dead bodies, an alley with Buffy telling him he was beneath her.

 

He moaned, never knowing how close his tormentor stood.


	12. Blood of Life

Buffy paced behind Willow as the witch leaned over the map of Sunnydale, setting up the spell. “Are you sure you’re up for this, Willow?” Giles asked. “If the warlock should sense your presence, he could reverse the effect you’re attempting.”

 

“I know, Giles,” Willow muttered, leaning back, having finished the set up for the spell. “But we have to try.” She jerked her head toward the anxious Slayer, and Giles sighed. It was starting again. Buffy got a new boyfriend, boyfriend got into trouble, Buffy went a little crazy trying to save him.

 

“Buffy, I’m sure Spike will be fine,” Giles said, trying to reassure her.

 

Dawn looked up from her position in the armchair. “Are you going to be able to find him, Buffy?”

 

“Of course, Dawnie,” Buffy said firmly. “No one gets away with hurting my boyfriend.”

 

Willow began her chanting, and Buffy came to stand next to her sister. “It’s going to be fine,” she promised.

 

When she had spoken the words of the spell, Willow cast the dust over the map, and it fell in glittering fragments. There was a moment of stillness when Buffy was certain that it hadn’t worked, until all the dust motes literally shot to one location, glowing with a steady pulse.

 

“He’s there,” Willow said, satisfaction a thick coating over her words.

 

Buffy smiled, the ice in the expression matching the tone in Willow’s voice. “Then let’s do some damage.”

 

~~~~~

 

Lyndon was still having a grand old time watching Spike moan and mutter under the curse when he felt a prodding at his defenses. Frowning, he turned just in time to see the Slayer and two of her friends come strolling into his large cave. “You’re early,” he said, feeling a flash of alarm, and then dismissing it just as quickly. The boy might carry a crossbow, but it would do him no good, and the witch was alone.

 

“What can I say?” Buffy replied, a little smile on her lips. “I hate to be late.” She had to say she didn’t find the warlock very impressive. He was a small, mousy man, with no distinguishing characteristics at all. It would have been easy to ignore him in a crowd, except that he was dressed in long, black robes will all manner of silver symbols embroidered on the velvet. It was pretentious in the extreme.

 

“Have you come to save your precious vampire?” Buffy willed herself not to flinch at the sight of Spike. The warlock was looking entirely too smug for someone whose ass she was very shortly going to kick.

 

The Slayer’s eyes narrowed. “You know I’m going to kill you, right?” she asked conversationally. “I mean, it’s one thing to come after me, but nobody gets to mess with my boyfriend.”

 

“Your boyfriend?” the warlock responded, his tone oily. “Such an interesting word for a human to use for a vampire, especially if that human is the Slayer.” He shook his head. “Or maybe they should start calling you the ‘Vampire Layer.’”

 

“Okay, you know, that joke was old the first time I heard it,” Buffy nearly snarled. “Can’t you people get some new puns? Really!”

 

The warlock shrugged. “Enough. I’m tired of this. I think it’s time we ended it.”

 

“I agree. I’ve been wanting to kick your ass for a while now,” Buffy replied, flexing her hands.

 

The warlock smiled. “No, my dear, I think it’s time for you to die.”

 

“You’re going to have to deal with us too,” Xander spoke up, stepping forward in what he hoped was a menacing manner.

 

“Oh?” The warlock flicked his fingers and the boy began to choke, suddenly unable to breathe.

 

Willow desperately murmured a counter-spell, hoping to loosen the magician’s grip on Xander’s throat. She was relatively successful, since her friend took a deep, gasping breath, but it was taking all of her strength to shield the three of them from magical attacks.

 

“Willow, get him out of here,” Buffy ordered.

 

Willow looked alarmed. “Buffy!”

 

“I’ll be fine,” the Slayer insisted, seeing the glint of madness in the warlock’s eyes. He was crazy, and he wasn’t afraid to die in his attempt to kill all of them. “Get Xander out of here.”

 

Willow did (mostly) as she was told, pulling the young man to the mouth of the cave, continuing to put up as much of a shield as she could manage. At least Buffy would have some protection from magical attacks.

 

“And now you’re alone, Slayer,” Lyndon said, smiling.

 

Buffy ignored him. “What did you do to Spike?”

 

“Isn’t it interesting?” the warlock glanced back at the vampire, admiring his handiwork. “I used a different curse, of course. There’s really no point in not engaging your creativity while you work. This one takes the worst fears and makes the person—or vampire, in this case—relive them over and over again. It’s been interesting to hear what his greatest fear might be. Did you know almost all of them center around you? Your rejection, your death, it doesn’t matter. Both seem to cause equal amounts of panic.”

 

“Let him go,” Buffy commanded. Now that the warlock had mentioned it, she could just make out Spike’s voice, asking that she not leave, begging her to wake up, calling out her name and Dawn’s.

 

Now Lyndon laughed heartily. “You don’t understand, my dear Slayer. It’s not my will that is keeping your vampire locked inside his mind; it’s his own weakness. Were he a stronger man, for lack of a better word, he could break himself out of this, but he’s delightfully insecure.”

 

Buffy took a step forward, and the warlock waved his hand again, causing the air to thicken around her so that she suddenly couldn’t move, nor could she breathe very well. “I had thought about killing you in front of him, but now I think I shall leave the vampire where he is. It’s just so immensely satisfying. After I open the Hellmouth, perhaps I shall display him on my wall.”

 

She struggled against the wall in front of her, feeling it give slightly, but not enough. Willow wasn’t having much success in breaking the warlock’s power, but then they had thought to attack him physically and with magic at the same time. Without anyone else to provide a distraction, Willow was left to fight the warlock from a distance with her will alone.

 

Buffy realized with a sinking feeling that she was stuck, and the warlock was looking more and more satisfied with himself. He pulled a gleaming knife out from his robe. “Say goodnight, Slayer.”

 

She did the only thing she could think of doing. “Spike! Spike, you have to fight this. I know you can. Wake up! I’m not going to leave you! I promise. But if you don’t get your ass in gear, this scumbag might end up killing me.”

 

Lyndon’s grin grew wider, the knife drew closer, and Spike still wasn’t moving.

 

~~~~~

 

At some point in the middle of the nightmare, Spike could hear the Slayer’s voice, separate from her words. He could see her face saying, “You’re beneath me,” in a dirty alley. At the same time, he could hear another echo, from another time and place, “I see the man I’m falling in love with.”

 

Spike wasn’t quite sure which was real—was the nice Buffy the right one, or was it the cruel Buffy? He heard snatches of conversation, just beyond him, like hearing people talking while you’re still half-asleep. Buffy’s voice seemed to reach his ears with a new clarity. “I’ve been wanting to kick your ass for a while now.”

 

The nightmares receded, and Spike focused on what was going on just past his awareness. He heard Buffy say his name, and then, “Let him go.”

 

She was here. She had to be here. The vampire could feel the manacles around his wrists, and he tugged hard, feeling them give slightly. He pulled harder, the muscles and skin on his arms and chest screaming in protest. The pain seemed to clear his mind further, and he could see the warlock standing in front of his Slayer, a knife in his hand. The nightmares threatened to overwhelm him again, and for a moment he was tempted to give in and quit fighting. Ignoring his own doubts and insecurities, he focused on Buffy and on getting to her in time.

 

The magician took another step towards Buffy, and Spike could hear her calling to him, urging him to break free. The resultant wave of panic that surged through him gave him strength. With one powerful yank, Spike pulled the chains out of the wall. The noise distracted the warlock, causing him to turn and face a very angry vampire. “Nobody messes with my girl,” he growled, and with one swift movement, Spike snapped his neck.

 

“Spike—” He heard Buffy’s voice, but it seemed to come from very far away, and he felt as though he were falling.

 

Spike knew no more.

 

~~~~~

 

Dawn poked her head into Buffy’s bedroom cautiously. It had been five days now, and Spike still wasn’t awake. Buffy and the others had come back from their mission carrying the vampire in grim silence. Willow and Xander had explained what happened, while Buffy cared for Spike’s various wounds. After more than a day of watching over an unconscious Spike, Buffy had gone to Giles to see if he knew if the curse might still be in effect.

 

Giles had confessed to not knowing if he would ever wake up. The combination of curses that had been used on him in such a short period of time could potentially leave him comatose. Just the fact that he had been able to break free of the warlock’s control at all was something of a miracle, but he might have used all his resources for that one effort.

 

After three days, Buffy had no choice but to go back to work, leaving Dawn or one of the others to watch over the unconscious vampire. When she wasn’t at work, however, she could be found sitting by Spike’s side, staring at him, willing him to open his eyes. There really wasn’t much else she could do.

 

“How is he?” Dawn asked softly.

 

Buffy looked over at her sister, dark circles under her eyes. She’d tried to sleep, but it hadn’t come easy. “About the same. I keep thinking he’s going to open his eyes and tell me—I don’t know. Tell me he saved my life or something, gloat over it, you know. I’d give just about anything to hear him make one of his annoying comments right now.”

 

Dawn came over to stand by her sister, putting a hand on her shoulder. “He’s going to be okay, Buffy. I mean, when has Spike ever given up?”

 

Buffy tried for a smile and almost made it. “I know. That’s what I keep telling myself. Spike doesn’t leave, even when you want him to, so he’s got to be okay.”

 

“I know,” Dawn said. “I wish we had an antidote or something for whatever that scumbag did to Spike’s brain.”

 

“Me too,” Buffy said, and then stopped. The only vampire poison she knew of had an antidote—the blood of the Slayer. Slayer blood was supposed to be something of a cure-all for vampires, surely this time it would help. At least, it could hardly hurt.

 

“Dawn, could you do me a favor?” Buffy asked quietly.

 

Dawn looked over at her sister with a frown. “Sure, Buffy. What is it?”

 

“I want you to make sure no one comes in here for a while.” Buffy met her sister’s blue eyes, a level of seriousness in her gaze that Dawn rarely saw.

 

Dawn hesitated, and then nodded. “I’ll make sure.”

 

“Good.” Buffy gave her sister a hug, and then saw her to the door, shutting it firmly behind her. Turning back to the bed, she looked at Spike’s still figure. They had been feeding him by pouring blood down his throat at regular intervals. Not a fun process. For her plan to work, Buffy would just have to hope that Spike’s vampire instincts would take over when he smelled Slayer blood.

 

Buffy went to her weapons’ chest and pulled out a small dagger, testing the edge with her thumb. Coming back over to sit next to Spike, the Slayer took a deep breath and ran the blade over her wrist, watching the thin, red line well up. As gently as possible, Buffy forced his mouth open and placed the wound over his mouth, letting her blood drip.

 

For a long time, Buffy was afraid that nothing was going to happen. Blood was filling his mouth, but there was no change in his face, and he wasn’t swallowing. Buffy ran a hand over his bruised cheek. “Come on, Spike. Please. Just drink.”

 

As if her encouragement was all he needed, Spike’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. Slowly, his face changed, the demon coming out, and Buffy could feel his fangs latching onto her wrist with almost exquisite pain.

 

Spike took several deep pulls before his eyes fluttered open, yellow meeting green. He disengaged almost immediately, his features melting back into his human face. “Buffy?”

 

“That’s right,” she replied softly, stroking his hair. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Everything hurts,” he replied, and then frowned. “Did—did I—Buffy, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

 

“Hush,” she commanded. “I wanted you to. You’ve been out for a few days, and I didn’t know how to bring you back.”

 

Spike blinked, then said weakly, “You _let_ me drink from you?” In his slightly fuzzy state, it seemed preposterous. It was the ultimate offering, and in the wake of the curse, constantly hearing Buffy’s voice saying, “You’re beneath me,” it was incredible. Too good to be true. And yet the aftertaste of her lingered.

 

“I think ‘encouraged’ is probably a better word there.” Buffy smiled. She could see his eyes clearing, and the bruising on his face, which had been slowly getting better, was now noticeably improved. “You’re better then? What happened?”

 

Sheepish was really the only word to describe the look on his face. “Thought I could get the drop on the bugger and kill him. I hadn’t gone but ten feet out my door and _he_ got the drop on _me_. Don’t remember much else. Woke up briefly in that cave before he put the whammy on me. And then I—I heard you saying you were falling in love with me, and I guess I just broke myself out of it.”

 

Buffy smiled smugly. “And that idiot thought you were weak. As if.” The humor left her face and she fixed him with a glare. “But Spike, if you ever, ever pull anything like that again, I will personally stake your ass.”

 

He gave her an apologetic smile. Spike had meant to bring her the warlock’s head on a platter, not have her rescue him from torture and certain death. “I really am sorry, luv. Never wanted to worry you, just wanted to put a stop to his coming after us.”

 

“I know,” she said. “And since you didn’t die—again—I’m going to let it go.” Buffy lay down next to him, grabbing one of his hands since there wasn’t a non-tender spot on his chest she could fling an arm over. “I don’t want to lose you.”

 

“You won’t,” he assured her. Sleep was now far away, which made sense as he’d been unconscious for a while now. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Buffy snuggled next to him. “I’ve been thinking,” she said sleepily.

 

“Hard work?”

 

“Stop it!” she said, resisting the urge to slap him. “I was thinking that it might be nice if you were here. A lot more.”

 

“I already am here,” Spike said. “And I’m here a lot, actually.”

 

Buffy laughed. “No, I mean it would be nice if you were here all the time. It would be good if you kept your house, of course, for when we wanted to be alone.”

 

Spike frowned. “You mean, coming to live here?”

 

“Yeah. You could have a drawer and everything.” Buffy’s eyes drooped slightly. “I don’t know. I’ve lost so many people that I love, either because they leave me or because they die. At first I thought I could run away from it, but now I just want to make the most of what I do have.”

 

“And that includes me does it?” Spike was still having some trouble with this scene. Mere days ago, Buffy had been avoiding him like the plague, and now she wanted him to come and live with her?

 

“Doesn’t it?” Buffy asked. She roused herself enough to kiss him, proving to him with her actions that she meant what she said.

 

Spike pulled back slightly and looked into her eyes, trying to see the truth behind her words. “I don’t want you to feel pressured,” Buffy said quietly, seeing the uncertainty in his face. “But I’d like to have you around.”

 

He considered it for a moment. “Tell you what, luv,” he finally said. “I’ll take you up on that offer of a drawer, but we’ll play the rest of it by ear. See what happens. Might not be what you want.”

 

Buffy smiled, and rolled her eyes. “Spike, you _are_ what I want.” She yawned widely. “But right now, I think I want to sleep.”

 

“Then sleep, luv,” he replied. “I’m going to be right here.”

 

Spike watched as she dozed off, thinking about what he wanted for her, and for them. Thinking about what it would mean to live under the Slayer’s roof, to be with Dawn. To be a family. He realized that his worst fears had gone unrealized, that they had been dispelled with Buffy’s words, and her offer, even though he didn’t think he would take her up on it just yet. Not yet, but soon.

 

Spike thought back to the beginning of all of it, to the depths of despair that he had walked, and he knew it wasn’t over. There would continue to be adjustments, and sadness, and fear. It was inevitable; it was a part of life. And it was all worth it.

 

He ran a hand over Buffy’s hair, and whispered, “Losing through you what seemed myself, I find selves unimaginably mine; beyond sorrow’s own joys and hoping’s very fears yours is the light by which my spirit’s born: yours is the darkness of my soul’s return—you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars.”


End file.
